I remember when you found me.
I was huddled in my only coat, thorns scraping my face every time I moved, the blood mixing with the tears as they streamed down my skin.
"Who are you?" you asked. I looked up at you in surprise, the emotion of you discovering my hideout not quite enough to stop the tears. They continued to plop down on my legs. They bounced as they hit my shivering thighs, wobbling precociously until they finally slid off.
"Who are you?" you asked again, no hint of impatience coloring your voice. I couldn't talk. I looked away. Did you come to beat me too? Was I really that easy to see?
You grabbed my hand and pulled me up, supporting my weight with your arms alone. I was too skinny.
"How did you find me?" I croaked. It didn't make sense. I should have been invisible.
"I was looking."
So simple, so straightforward... it shocked me. How could you have seen me, when I blended so well with the dark, twisted branches of my prison? That's what my soul would look like. That's why I blended so well.
"I thought no one was supposed to find me!" I exclaimed.
"Maybe you needed to be found."