In that place, the light was never enough, as darkness followed her everywhere. It was that invisible accusing finger, that little voice that scolded her, the part that rebelled against her ego and stubbornness, yet remained hidden deep within, for it was hard to admit she had been wrong.

She still thought it was unfair that she was there, in that damp place—neither aesthetic nor comfortable, and, in her eyes, filthy. No matter how much they cleaned it, she found it repulsive.

"You think you’re