Laying naked on the cold tile floor. The coolness from the tiles against her damp skin. Her body too weak to move. She enjoyed the feeling of the cold tiles against her skin. It was real. Perhaps the only real thing. She could cling to this. This feeling. The feeling of wet skin against cold tile. She could enjoy this moment. This moment. This brief moment which offered relief. Relief from life. From suffering. Relief from thoughts, feelings. The world. She laid there, relishing in the feeling. Her cold wet skin again the cold tile as her skin began to prickle and her body shivered. This feeling. This feeling for a moment stopped everything else. Until slowly, everything started to invade her world again. Sirens. Voices. Madness. If only she could hold on a minute longer. A second longer. It was too late. Life had made its way back to her. She opened her eyes. Stared at the door. Wishing somehow she could sink into the floor. Disappear. Vanish. She could hear the footsteps approaching. She forced herself up. Grabbed a towel and begin to do what she did best. Pretend.