"Gwen collapsed on the floor of the train, panting and gasping as though she’d never run before. Instinctively she pushed herself up, only to cry out at the searing pain in her hands. The angry, raw flesh stared back at her, specks of blood still trying to emerge. She grimaced, and tried again hands-free. “Sorry, I-...I’m so sorry,” she gushed. As soon as she managed standing, she felt herself lose balance, and would have toppled over had she not caught her weight on the door. The world spun. Gwen’s blood rushed through her ears. There was mention of a compartment, and Gwen’s instinct told her to move. When she reached down to pick up her luggage, she forgot about her hands, hissing in pain and dropping her suitcase as though it were white-hot. She wanted to call out, to tell them to wait for her - “I can’t lift my suitcase!” but realized how much had been done for her and how stupid and useless she would be if she couldn’t manage to carry it herself. If you’re not strong enough to carry it, you shouldn’t have brought it. You should have packed less. Gwen dropped her head down. Wrapping her left hand carefully in the fabric of her shirt, she leaned over and gripped the handle in the cloth. It stretched her shirt and left her bent awkwardly, but she managed to hobble to the compartment before all but collapsing on the bench. She groaned, the bruising on her ribs finally coming forth with all the pain it could bestow. She sat down as far away from anyone else as she could, afraid to be a nuisance with all her issues. A burning sensation started in her knees and she looked down, only to find raw, bleeding skin beneath what hadn’t used to be a hole. She bit her lip. Her parents were going to kill her for ruining her clothes. Fighting back tears now, Gwen dragged her luggage up against her shins and remained quiet. She wasn’t going to make any more scenes or give anyone else a reason to make fun of her.

After a while, though, the illustrious view of the dusty corner began to lose its value. She timidly turned her eyes towards the other students. As far as she could tell, they all looked perfectly normal. Their clothes were clean and in one piece. Their hair was nice and tidy. No open wounds disturbed their skin. Gwen looked down at her shabby clothes, and her hands, and her reflection in the window. She felt like each of them were watching her. The lingering presence of nerves turned her stomach. She felt so out of place. She hid her eyes behind her hair."