Wilting her Flower

'Water cascaded down the stubble that pricked up upon her skin, drip dropping from the hair on her head that had hunched over her knobbly knees; the tinge of ginger that streaked through her dull, brown hair was washed out by the water that was dying it a deep shade of brown. She had left the almost cold and evil bedsheets from the bedroom to slowly submerge herself below the lukewarm water that swished with her each movement. It was solemn. The sway of the water's surface above her face and the coldness of the old bathtub of which the tips of her toes met - Florence felt the twange in her heart, the way her stomach twisted and turned with unwanted feelings. At least her tears could not show under the water, and so she held her breath, and maybe for a second too long, just wishing the all too calm of a tide could take her. '

She was sweet innocent Florence, a little too excited and a little too naive. She gets married all too soon and she cannot find her way out of her misery, but she should be happy, right? Happy in this wonderful loving Christian marriage.