thereachofanymagic
As she felt the water crash against her waist, and the icy needles of the cold Atlantic she felt peace at last. She waded in until the water gently splashed against her face, then letting her feet fall from beneath her and becoming like a softened stone polished by the waves the Atlantic took her away.
She weakly carried herself into the empty cathedral, knowing their eyes drawn to the limp greasy neon colored hair and tattered clothes. Her jeans torn beyond repair and her eyes sunken, decorated with bags to mark the number of nights gone without sleep, and tears to monument the life she could not escape.
She remembered the stories her mother use to tell of Christmas cookies, sugar plums, flying deers atop the roof, and the ice in her heart felt as if it may melt. As she looked down to her hands, the ones she remembered her mothers held and kissed goodnight in cold winter air she found nothing but cuts and above on her arms track marks; branding of the life she now chose to live.