She was dying.

Withering away inside herself.

Drowning in pain and loss.

Her life preserver had been ripped away from her fingers that held onto it so tightly, so fearfully.

And now it was all she could do to keep her head above the waves.

Her was mind lost to her,

As if no other fate she had known.

Treading water in the middle of a great storm, no end in sight.

Sometimes it was easier to give in.

Into the darkness.

Let the waves crash over her,

Let the weight of her soul pull her under.

Sometimes it was easier to give in.

Sometimes she searched for a hand to pull her free.

Sometimes she grasped at what wasn't there.

Sometimes a treacherous calm would deceive her into believing she was safe.

She was safe, floating in the water, until the winds and the waves pummeled back down on top of her.

Sometimes.

Sometimes it was easier to give in.