Nichole was neither in hell nor purgatory when every little slither of hope that she tried to grasp onto would slip between her fingers. When neither prayers nor making deals with the devil can save you, and your will to live is running out, when does the line get drawn? If mental, physical and emotional abuse isn't a testament to strength, what is when the only other option is giving up? The day her spark of hope ran out, she knew it would get worse before it got better, and she had no idea the courage and strength she would take back once the hope returned to her heart of living.