Every time she thinks back to the past, she looks for signs. Anything that would've told her of what was coming and warned her of how things were going. To her, she'd been thrown into a raging storm, stark naked, with nothing going on for her but her instincts.

That was how unprepared she had been for every glance, every caress.

Hence, when the realizations struck, she'd already made her way deep into the storm, with no way back.

At least, that's what she told herself: That everything that had happened was inevitable.

Inescapable.

Bound to happen.

But the truth is, she hadn't even thought of looking back. Not when she was outside, staring at the storm, not when she had started to walk through it, not even when she'd made half way across.

She hadn't even thought of looking back, only of what would be on the other side.