The day passes amid the sound and sensation of pounding, of the rain on windows and the blood in her brain.
The seeds of future pain are planted in and by the long-dead ghosts of memory.
[I'm not entirely sure how much longer this will go. There's much more to it, but I'm not sure how long I can justify the time I spend on it. I need to be focused on sales, and this is definitely not that.]
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