Wombed

The perfumed liquid, body cleanser was slathered gently onto ruddy skin; skin slightly seared by the scorching water. The steam fogged the clear, shower doors entombing its occupant inside a makeshift sauna. Solitary beads of H2O crept slowly down tiles. A sob escaped a pair of swollen, red lips, then a tear; neither tear nor bead of water knowing its uniqueness or difference, it was all the same. Wombed inside the hot liquid, the calming water hushed the critical voices and peeled a grimaced face. Depression, an accomplice that shunned anyone that dared befriend, had finally grown weary. A promise was made: tonight would mark the beginning- a symbolic baptism of sorts: a new life. Having stumbled there and again with this dark friend too many times and for too long, tonight the friendship would finally come to an end. Tonight, no veins would be sliced, no harbinger of dark asking for a weak act to be sated. The hint of lavender permeated the air, the aroma filling lungs in desperate need of a clean breath. A new phase. At last. At last. Born in liquid, healed by liquid.