Annabella herself was a study in quiet anxiety. Her movements were hesitant, her gaze often darting to unseen corners. Her undiagnosed paranoid schizophrenia and anxiety disorder were heavy burdens, making social interaction a tightrope walk over a chasm of fear. She was also beginning to suspect, though she’d never breathed the words aloud, that her vision wasn't quite right. Sometimes, the world shimmered at the edges, patterns danced in the periphery, and colors seemed to bleed into one another. Manageable most days, a mere annoyance. Other days, the hallucinations intensified, making reality feel like a fragmented, unreliable collage.