Liv was swallowed by the Night. There were no other words to explain the hell she went through last night. She felt as if black tongues of despair licked her face and limbs and she was halfway through the mouth of darkness; it threatened to swallow her whole.
She was saved by the unknowing hand of her sister who, as she slept, held on to her. Liv listened to her even breathing and felt the warmth of her hand barely clasping her increasingly numb fingers.
The barrel in her chest was too heavy. It was too much. Liv's mouth opened and out came a wail -- a keening so loud that it cannot be heard by human ears. The sound/non-sound was not meant to be heard on earth anyhow. It was a distress signal for the armies of heaven-- the angels and the saints who watch with keen interest our little human affairs.
'I am so near broken. I am nothing -- having nothing, almost hoping for nothing.'
It was the darkest, blackest night of her soul and what saved her was just the miracle of morning breaking over the horizon. Nothing else but the sun rising could dissipate the insiduous tongues, the grasping mouth of hell. And even now at the height of noon, her borrowed strength is fading.
Without sleep, without strength, without resources, without any idea how... Liv holds on to the frayed edges of her hope and her faith because she absolutely have nothing else.