His blood felt warm on my skin as I plunged the shard of glass deeper into his clothed chest full of "honour" and nobility. His reign of terror on my life ended as pathetically as it started.

I had done it with my own hands and I couldn't believe he was dead, I felt an odd mix of panic and relief and at that moment when I felt I could finally relax, I heard something, first, it was far away and then it was within an odd urge, word or feeling clawing at the innermost layer of my skull, and suddenly I felt dirty, my clothes where too tight and the blood on my skin was too sticky. I wanted, neigh, needed to get clean, to scrub my skin raw and wash away everything he'd done to me all those years but... there was nowhere to run to; I had no home, at least not anymore. I couldn't return to Delores Santi all bloodied up and bruised without the pig in tow. I'd be hanged before I could even say, "Ave Maria, gratia plena," and I didn't survive all of this to die just like every other criminal and petty pickpocket; No, I simply refuse.

It was at that moment when the realization hit me no matter what happened I would claw my way out and survive even if it meant I lost my body and my soul as long as I survived, I was achieving my purpose during my moment of enlightenment, I still don't remember what happened first, my running out of the manor as the heel of my shoes bent on the verge of breaking under my force and weight or the death grip I had on the ends of my dress and its multiple layers as my eyes scanned around looking for something not knowing what and running towards it almost like I was being directed by divine command and I kept running being beckoned as the image of a lake by a well cared for garden came to view; I ran faster and when I felt the cool slosh of water under my feet it was then and only then that I knew I was here, finally allowing myself to sink