An Ember in the Soul

She laid in her bed unable to get up, crippled by the toxic effects of an overdose.

An overdose she inflicted on herself to drown out the agony of existence. 

She was left tumbling into a deep slumber; deeper and deeper she fell.

Her thought process was in flux as a river of fragility and vulnerability swam through her veins.

She laid still, silent, staring at the ceiling that shrank beneath blackness.

until seductive shadows danced into her vision.

Her spirit was slipping away as the lies he told danced around her ears in the midst of the night.

Paranoid. Jealous. Unstable. Suffocating.

Agonizing descriptions that forced her hand to dump death down her throat.

And in the showering darkness, a last breath crawled up her mouth.

and that breath clung to her teeth, defiant in the face of expiration.

It was an odd, warm feeling.

Something simmering in the pit of her stomach.

Warm vibrations washed over her body. 

And in the ghostly darkness, a voice so calm and angelic, slashed through the silence.

Worthy. Tempered. Courageous. Powerful.

And suddenly she jolted up from the ocean of death, the bottle tumbling to the floor.

She turned her head to the window as the sunrise kneeled at her bedside.

The whispering savior was nowhere to be found. An empty room remained.

She looked down, feeling a tingling sensation driving through her.

There was an ember in her soul.

The remnants of a fighting flame pushing her to survive.

To forgive herself.

To live again.