She sat there in the corner every afternoon. While the rest of the world carried on its necessary functions, she simply stilled and silenced herself. She wasn’t waiting for anything. She wasn’t hoping to share her thoughts or planning some grand scheme to save the world. She simply watched.

She learned about life from that corner. Occasionally she’d turn her attention to a book when the chaos around her seemed to dull and her agitation had nowhere else to settle itself.

She learned about those around her. She learned about their fears, their biases, their habits, their loves - she learned about their contradictions and their thoughts. She saw stark contrasts between lovers and striking similarities between enemies. She saw the way others looked at each other and how they looked at her. She could read their opinions in their eyes and in the way they held their bodies. She could see the indignation of someone facing their postponed responsibilities as if the entitlement would last forever and the relief in the eyes of those who finally accomplished their tasks.

It was there, in that corner, where she grew up. Barely noticed by anyone, while she noticed all. She needn’t engage the din to understand it. She worried she’d lose herself in the noise if she tried. It was much safer to observe from afar.

It was there, one afternoon, when forced from her reverie, that he told her.

“You know, I always take comfort in your silence. Its because of your silence that I know you won’t cause me problems.”

To this, she broke from her trance and stared unseeingly up at her father. The silence had always been for herself; she hated how he somehow made it his own.

She smiled with a mixture of deviousness and coquettishness, a kind of sarcastic sneer made more innocent by the vacant intention-less eyes she showed to him.

And in that moment she knew that whether she were silent or screaming he still wouldn’t hear her.

It was in that moment that she decided to put all she had learned to good use.