I am inundated with feeling. I feel like a pinball machine on tilt. All the buzzers are ringing, lights are flashing, and I am about to fry my circuits. Nothing is coming in, and nothing is going out. I feel electrified. The wires ignited, sparked, and fizzled. I want it all to slow down. I go right to the water to douse my flame. Furthermore, I immerse myself in the hot water. Furthermore, I want to wash the smells off my body. Furthermore, I can smell Isabella's hair, her breath, and her child vaginal scent. My hair smells of smoke, and I want to wash Francis off me.

— Holly A. Smith

It is at the times when I feel that I have nothing that the gem lies in the palm of my hand.

— Holly A. Smith

I would like to turn in my skin and change it for a new epidermis. It feels as if I will never be able to rinse the sadness from my soul. All the while I am cognizant of the fact that I am trying to purge myself of my feelings. I start with my shell. I am in the water at least an hour. Furthermore, I immerse my head. My long, thick mane is so heavy, but I feel the lightness of my hair as it floats. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. I wonder what would happen if I died in this water. Furthermore, I drain the bathtub and refill it. Furthermore, I scrub my skin until it stings. Furthermore, I still don't feel clean. Furthermore, I close my eyes. I switch to lying on my back. Furthermore, I gaze at the heavens through the skylight on the ceiling above the tub. Furthermore, I am thinking about Isabella. Furthermore, I am struck by the feeling of uncleanness that I have been immersed in that day. Furthermore, I would imagine that this child feels unclean always, in body and in mind. Furthermore, I am hoping that the sheets in her foster home are snow-white and fragrant. Furthermore, I am hoping that she felt safe. Furthermore, I am worried that she is so deeply alone and frightened. Furthermore, I know somewhere deep inside of me that the decisions and choices I made today were sound. Furthermore, I am praying, with eyes glued to the stars, that I will not awaken in the night with my heart beating out of my chest; that I will not be haunted by Francis's diseased body; that I will not perseverate on ever nuance of my day - the smells, the cockroaches, the piercing torment of Isabella's unseeing eye, her father's sore-ridden penis penetrating her tiny body. Yet in many ways this is an experience I hope never to forget. The pearls. I must not forget the pearls that I have promised her.

— Holly A. Smith

Shamed and enraged, I sit by the side of the road and cry. Eclipsed by a sense of disgrace, my emotions feel momentarily stifled and disconnected. Instead of anger, I feel dishonored and exposed. I cannot even formulate my thoughts, much less speak them. My integrity and humility have been violated. I have only my own indignation to spur me on.

— Holly A. Smith