When the pain is intense enough, you cease to be someone in the world. You become a body against the world. The bench beneath you becomes strange. The air seems distant. Language cracks under the pressure. Even your name starts to feel like someone else’s.

“Safe” is supposed to be a sanctuary word, something that tells one ‘you can relax’ ‘no harm will come if you let your guard down’. But in practice, it has been stripped down to a forensic utility: are you still breathing? Yes? Then you are safe.

I gave them the chance to say something before the consequences became permanent. I gave them the chance to help prevent this from going further. And they took that opportunity and set it on fire.