Yingying looked at the blade. She could see the light of the fluorescent lamps and her own face. It was young and beautiful, but she knew that what the outside world saw was just a mask. Beneath that smooth, pale skin and behind those dark brown eyes, there was chaos.

She stabbed forcefully and the weapon made its distinctive sound. What use was it? She could control her movements and her breath, but she had failed to fight the demons that haunted her, again and again.

Maybe others found calm in meditation and martial arts, but for her it was only a way to work off her anger, to exhaust herself and to become so tired and hungry that she could push away all thoughts.

She made a butterfly kick and jumped over her own sword. The others applauded. They seemed to think she was some sort of super-hero, balanced and serene like a nun. How wrong could they be? She was enraged and desperate.

A heart breaker... She had thought of them differently, never imagined she would ever be one herself. Yingying the comforter, the shoulder people could cry upon, the big sister always ready to listen. She had turned into a rock and an iceberg.

" I don't understand..."

What was there to understand? It was a mess, chaos, disorder. How could she love someone else when she couldn't even love herself? He had misunderstood her tears. They were selfish tears, tears of rage, not of sadness. She had not cried for him, she had cried for herself. She was furious.

The steel cut through a non-existent enemy.

" I still dream of you."

He wasn't helping. Yet she couldn't explain. It wasn't his fault, but she didn't want to say those words which were so often insincerely used.

" It isn't you, it's me. You deserve someone better..."

But he did. She wasn't a super-hero, she wasn't what everyone thought she was. She was not wise and quiet, nor beautiful. If only they could look beneath that pretty surface and see the scorched ruins. It was a facade he had fallen in love with.