The hours tick by,
I look at my bloody hands and use the sink to haul my bruised body up to face the mirror.
a reflection of me appears,
a broken woman in her forties, beautifully and intricately damaged. a black right eye, busted lower lip.
Leave, their voices say.
I reach a bloody finger to my lip and tentatively touch it.
pain.
I drop my hand, my eyes never leaving my reflection.
her eyes were dull,
no glisten or sparkle left.
He has taken it all.
"Get outta the restroom, b****!" he shouts.
like he'd won.
which he always wins.
"O..okay."
why respond? But had I not, he would knock the door down, and continue what he's started.
he is cussing, saying things,
but my ears begin to ring.
I am deaf to all except the beats of my heart that refuse to cease.
why am i still alive? i wonder.
But I've tried. I have tried to end this, I've tried the pizza call to the police.
But all those times I've been shunned.
And the razors hurt, I could never bring myself to complete it. Poison is expensive, and lynching is too painful.
I would rather suffer pain and be alive than suffer pain before death.
He said til death do us apart 23 years ago,
but I wish that death came now more than ever
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ns216.73.217.39da2
and then Add to home screen.