The light of the sunrise awoke Amaryllis, as it did every morning. She stood, put on her white dress and slipped on her yellow ballet flats. She then continued to her window, her lilac purple eyes regarding the pastel sky. She unlocked the rusty hatch and heaved open the heavy window, strong gusts of wind there to greet her like a loyal dog. It flung her oak brown hair to behind her shoulders, but that just made her lean into it even more so. Her fragile lungs breathed in the crisp air, her eyes fluttering shut-like a delicate monarchs wings-in satisfaction.

"Amaryllis, dear, get away from the window-" a voice was calling out anxiously, making Amaryllis shoot backwards. Her breathing was now quick in fear, and a woman she didn't know walked forward quickly, pressing her palm against Amaryllis's forehead, like she had a fever.

"Amaryllis? Honey?" The woman spoke again, sounding more anxious than she did before. She thought I was going to jump, Amaryllis thought sadly. She wasn't. It was just that all that was beautiful seemed out of her grasp, so she leans into the outside as if she can reach it. The women's voice spoke again, snapping Amaryllis from her lonely thoughts. "We're going to close up your window, okay sweetie?" We're. As if both of both had a choice in this.

Amaryllis realised what she was saying immediately, and shook her head violently from left to right and back again. The woman merely sighed, exasperated, and walked over to Amaryllis's only escape, closing it off.

The winds playfulness immediately stopped blowing about the room, causing something inside Amaryllis to buckle. Her head dropped, and she studied to floor boards that held her up until the woman finally left again.

"Goodbye," the woman's voice whispered through the door as she shut it. By the time Amaryllis decided to register that she was being spoken to, the woman had gone and she wouldn't had bothered answering either way.

She stood slowly at first, then all at once as she ran to the window, trying to open it more desperately than she had ever done any single thing in her life. It didn't budge-the woman had locked it and brought the key with her-but she honestly wasn't expecting it to.

Amaryllis backed away, and her shoulder hit the tall mirror in one of the corners of her room. She whipped around and whimpered at the sight of herself. Not able to look at who she was and what she has let herself become, Amaryllis turned the mirror around on itself.

She stumbled away from her reflection, back once again to window, as if she was a addict that needed her fix. She clenched her fists, knuckles turning white as she gazed outside longingly. She tried to lean forward to see the flowers below her window, but her forehead hit the glass. Amaryllis, frustrated now, tore a fan off her flimsy bedside table. Holding it in her hands, she swung her thin arms back, then slammed the fan forward. It smashed against the glass, creating a web of cracks. She swung again, and this time glass flew, hungrily searching out her soft flesh. She winced, but swung the last time, now making a hole large enough for her body to fit through without getting cut too terribly.

Amaryllis clambered up onto her window sill, sharp glass biting into her skin as she leaned forward, into the air, to see the flowers. She leaned further, and further, and further-

"Amaryllis!" A voice assaulted the tranquility. The woman again.

Amaryllis shut her eyes against the sight of the woman's horrified face, and continued to lean forward. The glass below her tickled her stomach and left scrapes behind in her cotton dress. Before the woman could reach her, Amaryllis let go.

It was all she could do anymore. She fell for what seemed hours, or seconds. When she finally did land, it was silent. She couldn't hear much, not even the loud train horns or the terrified screaming coming from her bedroom window five stories up. All she cared about, as she lay there, broken and bruised, was that she could feel the beautiful flowers brushing against her skin.