She was dormant.
Asleep, perhaps, was a more peaceful way to describe her state of being.
I think it's my birthday today, she pondered. Or perhaps not. Time is a little difficult to keep track of, of late. Maybe I'm dreaming.
Maybe I should wake up soon.
At the thought of awakening, she flinched a little and drew back in her sleep.
A few more minutes won't hurt.
She was right. No pain could come to her in her current state. No more pain, the agony she had been experiencing for years upon years before now, disappearing in an instant. Gone.
She was left with a warm feeling from deep inside her core, radiating outwards, enveloping her being in a soft golden glow.
It felt wonderful.
It felt nostalgic, almost childlike, to be back in a state where no one could hurt her. Lying there, warm and dry, brought her an innocence that created a sensation of invulnerable naiveté.
At last, she could breathe.
At last, she was living.
This is living, she sighed contentedly. This is living, even if I am no longer alive.
She knew that she had left the world of endless suffering. She knew, but she did not wish to question how. Perhaps asking one question too many would send her right back to her worst living nightmare, and she could not bear more of that.
But she was not afraid.
She was not afraid, for now.
For now, she would rest in the warmth.
Warmth is alive.
