Clarissa
The beads of water softly caressed my skin as evaporation massaged every tense muscle. I wasn't sure how long I stayed here with my back pressed against the marble wall. All I knew was that my fingertips were beginning to wrinkle and my tears had finally stopped.
Saint's words kept repeating themselves in my mind over and over and over and over again. There was always this voice in the back of my mind that Saint only echoed. Now, the voice was amplified, triggering my recurring depression.
My mother could be dead, I've always questioned that. However, I always imagined my mother's death to crash down on me. There was an ignition of a fire within my soul that wanted to keep fighting, and if she were dead, I've always assumed that the fire would quickly be unlit.
My heart be
