She feels it creeping up the backside of her neck. The tension taking hold of the muscles, hardening them. Her fingers try to massage out some of the stiffness. It’s no use, she succumbs to the pain as tears roll down her cheeks.
They don’t see this side of her, she can hide it just as she hides her identity. No one will know of the hurtful things that rack her tired head. She wants to let them out, the words pound against her skull, demanding to be heard. But she knows the damage it will do to her, so she suppresses the volatile phrases.
Deep breaths, sit up straight, chin up and smile. She does not initiate any conversations, she is robotic in her responses. She goes through the daily motions- work, eat, sleep. She has been in this loop for weeks, maybe months. It goes dormant, the headaches subside.
No one notices the quiet ones, they fade into background. She doesn’t interact in their dialogue, she waits and watches. Another explosion- she internalizes the emotions erupting from them. It starts as a tingle, then a burn, and it slowly creeps up the backside of her neck.
With no clear direction, she waits. Her time will come.