If a shattered soul had a face to it with eyes and a mouth and looked like us, it would be what I was looking at. Iliana walked out differently from when she walked in. 

Her dress strap hung on her shoulder and she sniffled and wiped her red nose as she walked back to the line. I gulped and tried not to stare but it was hard, her face was bright red and her eyes watery after the twenty minutes that had passed. I wanted to say 'I'm sorry' but I doubted it'd make a difference or be ...