after the storm

where do i begin?

she sat by the window. the steady drizzle had turned into full-out rain a while ago. when… she did not remember.
she watched the day going to sleep. twilight… such a peaceful thing.
the cigarette she had lit had died after a drag or two. it didn’t matter. it had just been a diversion anyways.

he had left her again after things went bad.
with the tip of her tongue, she gently touched her split lip, wincing at the stab of pain it caused her. her cheek, still stinging faintly, would show color tomorrow. a light purple perhaps; it would match the color of her eye’s contour.
her thoughts provoked a bitter smile. at least he made her life colorful.
absurd.

her eyes lingered on her beloved garden outside, slowly growing darker. her refuge; she could not count the hours she had spent looking at it from this exact same spot, nor could she recall all the times she had spent in pain caused by his hands. wickedly familiar.
it seemed like a lifetime.

where do i begin?

undoubtedly he would return in a little while. return; bearing some petty gift to make up for his actions. once, she had believed his pained expression and pathetic attempts. once, she had believed he would stop.
once… she had been naive and loving.

she had stopped believing years ago.

she exhaled, deeply, forcefully; causing the window’s glass to fog up. lifting her slightly trembling fingers, she drew the shape of a crooked heart onto the smooth, cold surface.
she would leave it behind… the small, disgusting part of herself that still loved him. she had no more use for it.

with a final sigh she stood, grabbed her car keys from the low coffee table and moved to wrestle the big suitcase she had packed in a frenzy out the door. if its contents made sense, she would find out later. for now, it didn’t matter.
as the front door closed behind her and the fresh, rich scent of the evening’s rain filled her nostrils, she made herself one promise. one promise she intended to keep.

here.
here and now is where i begin.

she never looked back.

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3 responses to “after the storm

  1. Pingback: My Right To Bitch Hardware: The {Booker} Award « My Right To Bitch

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