Every move she makes, every twist, every turn, she feels their prickly fingers. She is absolutely surrounded by a thick web of thorns. They are inescapable. They mock her past struggles to get out and they remind her of her present condition. Gleeful over her future attempts to escape.
They sink into her, holding her captive in their piercing grip. She cries in longing for release, cries for the wounds that don't heal. Cries because she knows that this is her fault.
She climbed into these thorns so long ago. Long enough that the thorns have gathered to block out all light and all hope. She wonders what is to become of her.
How will she ever escape the clutches of these thorns?
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