mara rollins

Remodeling the soul

Whoosh. Smoke billowed out in front of her, fogging the cab of the small SUV and blurring the features of the people driving and riding with her momentarily, as the numbness settled itself in for the duration of the ride. Grogginess struck within minutes, almost before she had found the will to let go of the glass apparatus, passing it to a man that she had been forced to realize she never knew in the first place. Head lolling to the side, the panic and fear that had been so sharp and urgent in the prior weeks had subsided, no longer driving her to attempt escape, each time resulting in physic'al violence and manipulation of her mind to a degree she had no real cognizance of. Even now, the angle of her mind's eye was as off-kilter as the rest of her world for the last few months. As the warm skin of her temple and cheek met with cool glass and consciousness escaped her, one final warning alarm kept ringing through the curiously empty spaces of her mind before unconsciousness devoured reality and began its' ritual assault. She wanted to be in this car, on this journey...