Running had always been an expression of freedom. That's how she had always seen it. The wind whipping through her hair, tugging at her clothes as her feet moved so fast that she felt like she was flying. AS though for just that moment, she was soaring above the ground, close enough to the clouds to touch them.

But then she began to notice the strings. The tiny threads, invisible against the light, that were attached to her clothes, hooked into her skin, threaded through to her soul.

When had that happen? When had she become the marionette? The freedom she had been granted had been an illusion, but when had this illusion been painted?

Was the leash connected when they had met? Was it when they had become as close as twins? Or was it just when she had tried to break free?

The questions revolved inside of her just as she revolved in the hamster wheel she now saw she had been imprisoned in.

How could something so kind become so cruel? When had that happened?

How could she get free?