She lay in the shallows. The weight of her wet skirts dragging her down as the water flows past, washing her. The flowers in her hand picked as she had walked through the meadow to this secluded spot, hidden by the trees and bushes, never found. The shimmering beauty cleansing her ugliness. With warming weather her body will fertilise the earth of the banks and, feed the fish around her, and pollute downstream.
As she looks to the sky pondering her actions, she recalls the pain suffered at the hands of her father, brother. The indignity of being a plaything, an object owned, disregarded. her life having no meaning.
Her body would poison theirs as they had poisoned hers.
Her last thought.
As the water rushes over her face and the flowers drift away.
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