I thought she was intelligent. But she made a fatal mistake off needing love. It made her vulnerable. Her parents couldn’t give it to her; her body lacked the one part that made it important. She tried to find it in friends but they loved themselves more. Too interested in being the centre of attention, so when she looked for it in a boy her friends didn’t like that. She didn’t fit their mould. She had something they didn’t: that is unacceptable. She lost them. Her only hope was with the boy, who spans his web with words and a picture. He was losing interested; a computer is only fascinating for so long before you realise it won’t amount to anything. She tried to grasp his attention clutching at the only card she had left. Sex. He was half way across the world and a picture is worth a thousand words. She lost her virtue and he got bored. She had no one left to care. She had one last string of attention; she was swinging for hours before anyone found her. Her brother found her with a skipping rope wrapped around her neck; all he wanted was his textbook back. He got much more than that. His hands were never steady after that, you can’t be a surgeon with unsteady hands.