In the aftermath of a plane crash, a lone survivor still stirs
| She ripped the tiny bottle of liquor from the toppled cart, dug the lid into her palm and twisted it open. Blood slowly soaked the dingy aeroplane seat fabric as she pushed herself up to bite the armrest. Saliva moistened the cushion as she screamed, pouring the liquor into the 2 inch tear in her forearm. The bodies surrounding her smoked and crackled, and she cried. Not for them, but because she was finally free.