I suppose I'll be remembered as dull. Timid. No one ever knew me. People came. They went. I was kind, I think. Not sympathetic, but considerate of others. I always gave up my place in line. I loaned out pencils and paper, or let people take them from me. I never reported a sexual assault.

My room is cleared. My head is cleared. Earlier, around dawn, I took out the last load of trash. I look around and see what's left. Nothing. There is no more Daelyn Rice. As I was. As I am. Or will become. I'm a blank slate

I wish I was invisible to him, to everyone.

Yeah, I hear the truth. But this is my truth.

Because no one can be trusted.

What's the point of living if you don't belong anywhere?

Why are people so cruel? What did I ever do to them?