She rested her cheek against the scratchy fabric of the terrible sheets covering their borrowed bed. Her fists closed on the fibers, desperate for something to hold on to, something to ground her to the Earth when all she wanted to do was give in to the euphoric high and float away. How was it that she didn't realize all of those years she wasted living under the influence of her damned potions that she could've found the same release in bed with her husband? Why had she been running from him for so long?