13

Her saturated socks sucked at the floor, each step like dart gun bullets.

12

She made another tiny cut and watched the scarlet dot swell, a kind of velvet violence.

11

Cataracts of snow blinded the view out the window.

10

The music spread over her soul like butter on a hot biscuit, gliding across the surface and filling out the holes in a creamy bliss.

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9

The tsunami of grief that crashed against her heart would not be contained by the makeshift sandbag walls she had constructed.

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8

Her reflection in the lens exaggerated her forehead... like some kind of alien brainiac.