"I found my escape lurking in two other sets of lungs; ones that do not forget their job as easily as mine do, nor blame their victims and forgive their torturers. He dotted his i's with sin, breathed into my mouth 'conquer' and carved my back as 'his'. With my mind lined with his name and skin coated in his sweat, I stained his white t-shirt in luxury, etching his initials into the crumbling walls. I packed his name into a plane ticket and hastily swept away the remains in the name of spring cleaning. I found myself clinging onto a bar of soap, scrubbing my body in his nonstop route from waist to neck in attempt to force his touch down the drain alongside the fleeting scent of roses and regret pounding against the faded porcelain tiles. I replaced my tears with liquor and lips with sarcasm. I choked on my own name. It was then that I, with eyes painted black and nails dipped in revenge, cracked the mirror and mocked the reflection of the woman he once referred to as an old friend. He stretched my body on dirty sheets, marked it and stole my soul. In return, I traded it for a title and red lipstick."