It was in that ineffable moment,
the blinding glare from the spotlight above struck her eyes,
the bottom portion of her crimson gown brushed against her ankles and the stage, shimmering in the light.
Her delicately pressed curls fell past her shoulders, she looked beautiful.
The prodigious theater seated at least fifteen hundred guests; each one, from near or far, came to see her.
She was a violinist.
Using her wooden instrument, she reveals the music within her. She unveils every part of her soul that is broken along with every part that desperately calls for help.
She makes herself vulnerable - through her music she cries.
However, there is more standing on that stage than just a broken violinist,
there is a girl who has been through hell, but has only been made stronger.
Her muscular arms pull the bow across the strings fearlessly; she is proud to have come so far.
The strings of her violin replace the voice she might have if she were to sing.
To the audience she sings, telling her story.
The story of a once-broken violinist.