She spends her seventh year mostly alone. Those bonds they had repaired grow thin with the growing distance. They don’t intend the distance, she knows this. They are moving on with their lives, they’re focused on doing their best. Becoming their best selves. She still feels left behind. She feels like an artifact that no longer has the same shine it used to. She knows she should mention it to them. She should tell them she feels alone and that it triggers her panic and paranoia, she doesn't. She doesn’t because they’re fine and she should be as well. She shouldn’t find herself unable to look at mirrors and waking up to scratches around her barely sealed scars.