5 years ago:
Overwhelming guilt flooded her insides. Bile rose to her throat when she thought of it. She sat down on the floor of her shower cubicle and turned the knob. Hot water gushed out of the faucet and scalded her skin. The steam rose, misty, grey, grimly, engulfing her in an uncomfortable warmth. Nothing. She sat at the edge of her bed. Nothing. She lay and waited for sleep to take over, and still nothing. Soon the first rays of the sun hit her face. The dusty windows filtered and let in just enough light for her to see. She counted the bills. Thousand. Two thousand. More guilt. Three thousand. Guilt. Four thousand, five. Five thousand dollars. She lit a cigarette and forced herself to take a nauseous drag. That didn't help. She picked up a stamp, and let herself be consumed in the drug as it ran its course in her, until light was all she saw.

Today:
She tossed a blanket on herself and waited. She lay that way for a long time, on her back, staring emptily at the brown ceiling. A thousand sordid images. The putrid stench of herself, her actions of which her soul was constituted. The loneliness that ate into her life. When the world came to, she was still staring at the ceiling. She was moved by the fancies that were curled around these images, and clung to the notion of some infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing.