Detox was a different monster than the flu we had when we were kids. Sure, there was nausea, diarrhea, chills, and fevers, but it all had gasoline poured on top and lit. Left to the flames, I gave the fire my hands. It took them and asked for more. I gave my feet, my legs, my arms. It took them and asked for more. I gave my eyes, my breasts, my ribs, one by one. The pain took them all and asked for more. That was when I realized that a woman holds most things in the back of her throat. And that these things come out in vomit and screams and cries.
