Ashes In Your Mouth

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Previously on Wings of Light:


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"Despite my apprehension and prejudices, I'll take the utter responsibility to face the apocalyptic tribulations of the publicists to defend our family and our image instead of chasing the rainbow of picturing a peaceful life even when the journalists' quietness is a cold day in July. And I almost forgot to mention I saw the fifth door on this floor,"

"There's something fishy behind it! As soon as I got back in the hotel from the jogging, because I didn't see that on my way outside just a half an hour ago or so."


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"It's not just a sister of the church anymore, Miss Winters! Don't try harder to call them with their clerical titles that they wore just months ago! It's like eating the food that was thrown in the garbage bin and recycled with other remnants of the garbage!" 

"I'm essentially there in Hartford because they are about to have an upcoming interview due in June!"


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"For what? I can smell your sweet lies and your journalistic shallow mind just to owe you anything I am not under an obligation to you actually, Miss Winters! You are on fire on about the water under the bridge just to be blind leading the blinds that is called your circle of fans to believe any quantity of your fabrications in your forthcoming book like for example about Jude and Timothy as great examples."

"I'm not lying. I want to find out about their nowadays lives. It doesn't hurt the knowledge."


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"Oh God! Oh no!"


--- *** ---

"Oh God!" Paradoxally icy paroxysm sprawled beneath Martha's muscles and perpetually petering out the physical stamina engulfing into her knees, managing to muffle the quiet sniffle whilst darting her doe, guiltlessly tearful cinnamon brown big, roundish optics to the exquisitely polished coat rack with her and Sebastian's rucksacks draped on the hooks, in order to prevent an eventual migraine due to the bone-chillingly mortifying scene, oblivious to the wheelchair accompanying the left side of her patient bed. "Oh no!" The thoughtlessly helpless attempts to jam her dispirited sable sobs break her flimsy facial expression apt to threadbare the tissues of her stark patience.

A long minute of heinously deliriously melancholic sobs echoing through the site's walls and tempest of stormy coherent waves of her roar speared the isolation the walls provided.

The great medley of hysteria, heart break and inebriating melancholy billowed up the young woman's boiling emotions in an individual cauldron of its fantastic amalgam and erupted up its cataract streaming from her puffy, vermillion orbs.

Martha couldn't control even an ounce of her inexorable emotions that composed its own symphony of her roar. It was her Achilles' Heel to harness her own emotions and feelings in such tough moments where her heart was mincing its own tiny, vulnerably glassy fragments on thousand particles of the remnants.

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