Suffocation Of Solitude

She sits there, alone in the corner of the room. Her chair is empty. The couch is layered with books, papers, pens...garbage, really. She hides in the corner. Her body shivers, trembles...shakes. Broken knees are held tightly under her chin by small and fragile arms.
Her stomach churns and flips. If there was any food contained within, she would throw-up. But she did that already. She had her supper. And then made herself sick. It's not hard to do. Not really. A necessary evil.
Mother always says she looks so good. So much more healthy than when she was big. Father believes that his eldest daughter is now My Daughter... and not, My other daughter who....
She rocks back and forth gently. Her eyes are shut tight. If she can't see the demons in the room, surrounding her, closing-in on her, then they can't hurt her. Can't devour her. Her breathing is ragged, shallow, and stressed. Cold sweat beads over her skin.
The blinds are drawn over the windows. There are only a dozen minute slivers of light filtering into the cold and desolate room.
She hides there, in the darkness. She hides from the world. She prays that the demons find her, destroy her. She prays that they destroy her before she destroys herself.