I Do Exist.

The young woman stood on the side of the platform at the train station. Her sobs inconsolable. Her reasoning impaired. Not drink. Something far worse, depression, medication, a world of issues too difficult to express. Her life falling away and her crys for help unheard.

Most noticibly by the ticket collector who had ignored her pleas for help and thrown her off the train and abandoned her, without a second thought. On a dark and empty station miles from anywhere.

Desperate she dialled a number and waited eagerly for her Mother to pick up, although she was over two hundred miles away, she needed someone who could understand her fear and although not able to physically hold her, could speak the words whose magic only came from knowing that she was loved.

Had her disability shown, there would have been compassion, understanding, assitance. But her scars are hidden, and so the world carried on as though she did not exist. She became a 'non' person.