The Tower House provided the woman a stone cold, safe place away from people. There wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to let anyone near her heart again—this pact had been sealed as a child. Her flower dress and world had been stained. She was marked with the imperfection of a beast. Her voice had been silenced. Her BFF, CALMella, the rogue demon laced with the everlasting comfort of food, would be her chosen protection.

Just the mention of food washed the woman’s soul with elation, and at the same time, that familiar tingle of desolation ran over her skin. CALMella tossed her head and stiffened her neck, smirking at her own grandeur. Voices in the atmosphere that fought for the Woman’s attention were unrelenting, both screaming and whispering. The rules of life must be obeyed at any cost, and someone like her would never be smart enough to decipher the truth from the lies.

What the Woman didn’t know was that real love, if need be, would pursue her unto death. She desperately needed answers, and the voices silenced, never able to decide if the Angel Woman or Village People’s words held any power to help her find peace.

The Samaritan Woman, with her crystal ball ways, were adamant they spoke truth. And the Priest and her Husband believed all the same tales. War for this Woman's heart, declared from the beginning of time. And time was an elusive concept that had a way of enticing us to freedom.