Skyress

The blow struck the wooden post, leaving behind only a soft noise and an unpleasant tingling sensation in my knuckles. Again and again, trying to drown out the intrusive, unpleasant thoughts that were trying to burrow ever deeper, sowing the seeds of panic.
Your mother's funeral ended just a couple of hours ago. The illness, the coma, and her weakness, which prevented her from escaping.
A soft sound. Skyress, who had been lying on the table in her uniform this whole time, unraveled. For many, a strange child's toy; for you, the last memory of an important person.
"Stop running from what's gnawing at your soul. Sooner or later the day will come when you'll have to deal with it."