There was something about the loneliness that was weighted. Like chains of rusted lead weights in water, her heart seemed to drag with every action she took. And she felt a sense of sluggish vulnerability that came with the fatigue of the burdening which held her back.
Not that she had a choice.
She was locked in a tower in the vaguest sense that could be imagined. Yes, Rachel was free, but she was locked in a tower. She was constructed by the bounds of something unphysical. She could travel any place, but the loneliness followed her. And that was a form over power. The very thing she resented.
Power was a turnabout.
Rachel's life had been directed towards the silver mirage that drove those around her. Power was evil, power was manipulative, and power had destroyed everything she could be happy with. It was a cancer that she wanted no part in. But how could one be a peacemaker in a world designed as an arrow to the heart?
They couldn't.
So Rachel was stuck in a silver tower. She could look out the window all she wanted, and she could drive anywhere she wanted. Freedom was not an issue, in a practical sense. In a psychological sense? There was no such thing.
Loneliness was her silver tower.
