She needed to, she needed to, she needed to now! The dull pain was crashing in her ears like an unforgiving ocean tide of scabby depression. It was a flat pain, if it were a flavour it would be those violet sweets. Muted but overly present. She couldn't handle it, she needed it to either be gone or to change or have something distract her from it. She wasn't able to concentrate on anything other than this. The crashing waves got louder, relentless and unforgiving. Then suddenly an angel sang in a sweet, pointy note about the waves, which became silent and calm. The blood began too ooze. Big bubbles that formed droplets and left tiny tear tracks as they cried their way to their maker's fingers. If this feeling were a flavour it would be the sharpness of lemon sherbet. Bitter and shocking that left an addictive after taste. It completely obliterated any remaining taste of violets. Not everyone likes sherbet. Or lemon. For some it it too tangy, too sharp. For some violet is enough, it is soothing and the waves lull them to sleep rather than threaten to drown them. She thinks they are the lucky ones. For some the sherbet is a life boat cast out to sea to hopefully catch and reign them in. She gets up off the bedroom floor. Dresses herself and pops a sherbet in her mouth before walking out the door. She tries to ignore the sound of waves and the smell of violets that tingle her nose. Today is one of the days she will have to fight not to try the soft fluffy reassurance of white candyfloss.