“What does it mean truly, to be invisible? Her stillness, her ability to remain calm while high-decibel insults are hurled inches from her face and ears. To pretend nothing has been said. To pretend deafness. Or her chameleon's ability to blend in, a nondescript body in a dark blouse and black jeans leaning against the pay phone at the hospital waiting room, or standing outside the courtroom's double doors or by the fire engine at the crime scene, yellow do-not-cross tape isolating one place from its larger context. To pretend the oak tree across the street's steadfast patience, to pretend paralysis. To watch but pretend blindness. Never look anyone in the eye. Or maybe restraint. Knowing her lack of reaction is the only thing keeping her alive, over and again. Knowing the first time she hits back is the last time she'll ever have the opportunity to do so.”