There once lived a girl, she didn't grow up that well. 
One day, her leg got hurt, and it bled so much. 

"Ow!" 

She thought, holding back her tears as she used her leather jacket to tie up the wound, as some sort of makeshift bandage.
After a while, she grit her teeth and thought: 

"If I tell Mother about this, it will be a bother to her..."

Mother always got angry when a small problem cropped up. 
It was then she decided she wouldn't tell her mum about this problem. 

And there was no one around in the countryside who could help her either.
Or, no one reliable she assumed. 

The problem will deal with itself, the girl thought. 
A few weeks later, her legs began to feel worse. 

It hurt a lot, it was unbearable. 

She didn't know it, but things were getting worse. 
But knowing how her mother would react, she grit her teeth, telling herself 

"People have it worse than me! I'll be fine!" 

The days passed by, and she couldn't play with her friends properly in the forest because of her leg. 
Because of that, she usually sat out while her friends played.
And as time went on, since they knew she couldn't play, they simply left her and talked to her ever so rarely. 

She began to feel lonely. 

"What am I doing wrong?" 

The girl thought, sadness welling into her heart.
Why weren't her friends playing with her? She thought. 
Why are they not caring about me anymore? She thought. 
Of course, she got no answers. 
Time passed by, and her leg seemed to have gotten even more worse. 
But she didn't notice, she was too preoccupied with something else:

"It's their fault... I didn't do anything wrong... Fine then! If I'm left alone then I will be alone. If they don't want me, then I don't want them!" 

At the back of her mind, was the problem with her hurt leg. 
In her mind, she knew deep down this was all because of her hurt leg. 
But, she was too scared to tell mother about it. 
Mother would do all sorts of things to her if she troubled mother. 
No one should make mother angry. 

But, she thought: 

"My leg is okay. There's nothing wrong with it. Why? What's the problem?"

It was then, she blocked it out. 
She blocked out her problems, out of fear of admitting the source of the problems. 
And that it will anger mother. 
And that it will make mother disappointed in her. 
And that it will make mother look down on her. 

There was no way mother could be disappointed in her, she thought. 

For the next few weeks, the girl spent a lot of her time alone. 
She did not care for others anymore, as they didn't seem to care for her. 
But came a time, where she thought about how lonely she was. 

But when she did, she thought:

"Others have it worse than me, I'll be okay." 

She suppressed her feelings, and grit her teeth with a smile, a smile that seemed to lose its warmth each time it appeared. 
Her smile, growing cold. 

For another few weeks, the girl thought again: 

"I'm not feeling... My leg isn't feeling..." 

She swallowed up those thoughts, refusing to believe that she was feeling bad at all. 
If she recognised that she was feeling bad, she'd have to tell mother. 
And mother wouldn't like that. 

But, then came a time where the girl thought:

"...Is there even a problem anymore?"

Emotional detachment grasped her throat, and pulled her into its bossom. 
Emotional detachment, it's the name of the demon that refuses someone to tell others of their feelings, situation, and pain.

For this girl, the demon grabbed her mind, whispering into her ear:

"Hehehehe~ Mother wouldn't be pleased, would she? Huehuehue~ If you don't tell anyone your problems, no one will be disappointed. If you tell others of your problem, they will be annoyed, and mother will be very cross about having to deal with it."

The Demon's whisper grew louder and louder. 
The girl shook her head, and the demon disappeared. 
The Demon was gone, the sound of its whispers gone. 

But the thoughts lingered, and persisted, and persisted, forcing her into a decision. 

"I'm just not gonna think about this anymore."

She forced the effort from her mind. 

Over the next few years of her life unfolding, she then grew up to be an emotionally unstable individual on the inside, but looking cold, detached and mechanical on the outside. Life, joy, that was something that came into her once in a while. She grew into a fit of depression, a fit of anxiety, she was afraid of talking to others and started hearing voices, sounds, and seeing illusions. 

But even with these problems, the girl smiled lifelessly: 

"My problems are insignificant compared to others.... Well, I'm broken beyond repair anyways, nothings gonna fix me anyways, why should I care?" 

From behind the girl, the demon appeared once again, grasping into her mind, uttering her the same notions as she had said just now. 

Her words, all influenced by the demon. 

The Demon grinned, giggling in demonic delight. 

It's expression, mockingly boasting: 

"I've twisted her thoughts ever since she hurt her leg! I made her think less of asking for help, I made her think that her friends didn't care! I made her fall to the deepest pits of pain! Puahahahaha!" 

But, the demon didn't lie. 

If the girl asked for help about her leg, mother would have gotten mad. But her mother's Love would have surpassed the annoyance, and her leg would have been treated. The Demon played into the negatives, emphasizing them, making it look more clear and cocky. 

From there, it all went to hell, her life to hell. 
And what could the Demon do? 
The Demon just sat down, and laughed. 
It was the Demon's fault. 
But, with all fairytales, comes the happy ending. 

Someday, a Hero will arrive and smite down this evil Demon. 

Send its demonic thoughts back into the depths of hell.
Maybe, the Hero will be the Girl herself.
Maybe, it will be another person.
And, almost all times, the Hero will be both: Herself, and a passionate someone.

But, not to rush, dear Girl. 

All in due time.