she woke with the taste of blood and bile in her mouth, the crescent moon standing silent watch on the far side of the stained window.
she had survived her eclipse – her taste buds proved that much.
running shaking fingers over her damp face, she sat up, slowly. the stench of vomit and cold cigarette smoke filled the air, making her gag yet again.
resurrected, only to stare at a world of shit.
she could hear him snoring to her left.
the sound made her convulse, made the faint taste of blood flare up, sharp and demanding. her tongue snaked out of her mouth, carefully exploring the cut in her lower lip.
he had done it again.
he had promised, eyes pleading.
it had lasted a day.
slowly, she stood, careful not to make any noise. the hard, wooden floor felt cool beneath her bare feet.
silently, she gathered her clothes, her shoes, her bag… her life – still in pieces.
and to the watcher’s soft, comforting light, she closed the door behind her; bare feet leading the way to newfound opportunities.