Hands shaking, legs aching, back straining with pressure.
The room is pressing in, air gets thin and seems to disappear into nothingness.
Just when all hope is lost, eyes closing against the pitch black darkness,
A cool hand gently rests upon my trembling fingers, just barely gliding over them, making me doubt if they are there to begin with.
But this intrigues me enough to open my eyes once again, and fight against the void.
A long, unsure look around assures me that I am not alone.
They remain on each side of me, silent, yet too loud to be ignored.
I have grown used to these silent but loud presences, although I have lost my way.
They do not move, they do not speak, they do not have faces
and yet I know who they are and who they will.
The reasons to fight for all that can - and now will - be mine.
The skies begin to clear and I no longer feel my breath coming out in jagged gulps.
My angels have fallen from the opening skies
and now more than ever do I realize my purpose and my drive.
I fight the nausea and the skull splitting headache and my body's exhaustion, pleading to give up.
As I throw my all into the fire, I'm filled with pride.
I sense more than see bubbling laughter trickling from behind me, where they have been left,
and I smile.
Through tears that find their way sliding down my cheeks, my grin rivals diamonds seen in sunlight.
There is no bond that can push you to extraordinary things like the bond of sisterhood.