Silas sat in a bar, in the center of town, drowning his sorrows away. His mind tripping sympathetically over and over the suicide of the girl, the girl in the mask. Empathy filled his hidden tears, empathy for the girl who had been so young, yet been so unhappy. He pulled his sleeve up and looked at the scar on his wrist. It was still hurting.
From behind him, somebody tapped his shoulder. He quickly hid his scar and spun around, only to be met with the bright appearance of Naomi, who was vaguely smiling.
'You look sad.' she said. He turned back around, looked down at his drink and grumbled in response. She sat next to him and looked at his cloudy eyes.
'What's up?' she asked.
He shook his head and mumbled in response, 'This world is too cruel.'
She placed her hand kindly on his back and told him wisely, 'Only if you let it be.'
Her words resulted in an appreciative smile from him. He knew she meant good, but what she said would never cure the disease in his mind, the neverending sadness. Nothing could eradicate that which loitered in his mind, the knowledge of sorrow, sadness and agony. But he appreciated her words. He appreciated her being there for him. He appreciated her.
'Come on,' she encouraged him happily, 'let me give you a ride home.'