The Baptism and the Bake Sale
Start writing.... She sought a nepenthes… something to mute the pain… banish the memories. An analgesia of monumental proportions. Her story was markedly different. It was sadly unique. No one could identify the hardships, the abuse, the trauma, the pain, by having a conversation with her (surface), by seeing her (beauty), by meeting her (personally). There were no tell tale signs of the wrenching PTSD that lurked/lingered/proliferated beneath her outer layer, like lava within a volcano, denied by the very ones who owed her assistance.