And there she lay, blissful and unaware. Snapped into a time lapse. Nothing in her mind. No remainders. No pressures. No anything. A blacked out blur. Limitless. Sleep. But she just needs to hold on. The morning will come. The hangover. The pretence of normality. A chosen pain which deserves no empathy. The hurt in her head. A thousand daggers piercing her brain. Pulsating so hard, she is afraid and loses all logical thought. Her body aching. Thinking she will explode unless she starts it all over again. And it won't be long. She hasn't got that sort of willpower or strength. She doesn't even know who she is anymore. A hypocrite, a liar, a sly fiend. Afraid, alone, not knowing why she found herself like this. Let alone what happened in the hours before. Drinking to forget, smoking to replace love, clinging to life, acting as two people, believing this is coping. The body memories flood back, the surroundings will change, the smells and sounds. She'll want to escape. She'll yearn to breathe. She'll crave someone telling her she will be okay. But it won't come.