... And there she laid, curled up like a foetus, desperately seeking for the kind of security she enjoyed in her mother's womb. Curled up to stop the pain from brimming to the top, curled up tight to bury the ache deep down inside where it belongs. Prayers being mumbled to the Almighty, hoping for the pain to cease.
Isn't it ironic that the person who is causing all the hurt is the one she wants to turn to for comfort?
The same thought keeps running through her mind, "If you have to break it, pray, break it bad. Break it bad that it all comes to an end, but not bad enough for hate to evolve."
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