The Sweetest Salvation- PT I

She wiped the sweat off her brow... and smiled. Hard work just feels good, no matter how down and dirty she'd need to go. But the thought lasted a second or so. The sight of the grime filled nails had her rushing to the showers like she was on fire.
Soaped up, she washes herself, the small bubbles and their beautiful colours all were adding to the serenity she was feeling. The water felt so good... The soap sliding down her skin felt soothing... their was music playing in her mind...
Wrapping up a towel around her, she stepped into her room, the cold air from the AC hit her like a wave, she shivered a little... and then she stood and simply stared through the mirror...

I havent seen myself for so long. Now here I am, no colour paints my face... no mask to hide my feelings... no one to stop these tears... not a reason to smile...

She strokes her face.... The towel drops down...
Recent years have not been kind to her... her scars fill the silence....

What were smooth, flawless legs and arms... now slashed, cut, bruised... healed, but will forever wear the mark. Discoloured due to various medications applied, for various ailments that were caused. None natural, but inevitable nevertheless.

No wonder he doesnt notice me anymore... No wonder he doesnt love me anymore. This is what I've become... What I've done to myself, what I let happen to me, in order to love him.

All those nights I walked into this room so drunk, so high... Partied with my baby so long tonight... And my Dad would take one look at my beaten up figure, and just smash me up some more. The pain, the humiliation - no matter I'd just smoke up a little more...

Flipping her hair, she turned around and peeped over her shoulder. The same arched, curvaceous back... But the skin now ashen, dulled... Marks from her Daddy's cane... Bony now, thanks to her "diabetes" issues...

My sugar control... But I need some sorta sweetness don't I. This house is empty, full of painful memories. Theres a resonance of evil that follows me here... I don't quite understand all of this... but I know that I need some sorta fix. Cigs don't cut it anymore, booze isn't a constant supply either. So whatever else, Ima just take what I get...

She sat down on the floor. Hugged her knees. Buried her head in her thighs. And cried. She could feel the warm tears trickling down her face then dripping their coolness onto her warmth... She felt the physical surroundings, sensed the ongoing activity... all the while very much lost into a violent whirlpool of thought...

I need to be loved. I need some one to touch me again and tell me I am worthy of love. Am I not deserving of attention? People used to tell me I am beautiful. Now no one will even bother to look in my direction.

That's how cruel people can be. Simply because I have been abandoned by my family, stripped of wealth and name - they call me a whore. I have done nothing different from the mistakes many of them have made. I have not been especially wicked. But they wouldnt hesitate to burn me at a stake.

Her nails dug harder into her naked flesh.

My crime is one of coincidence. How stupid. All this suffering, and the only consolance you can offer me is that I am simply unlucky? My entire life has been one of misery and all anyone can offer me is sympathy? I don't need no fucking sympathy!

She stood up. Stared into the mirror... stared at her nude reflection. Closed her eyes and forgot the disgust. Opened her eyes to see a new her... the same beautiful girl she was before. First, it was awe. Then excitement. Pleasure. Peace. A slow, confident smile replaced the trembling lips.

She walks out of her room. She hears her baby son crying as she places him on the cold ground outside. Your father hates you she whispers. The baby stops crying and gurgles happily. She keeps walking... walking like she has some plan to follow. Methodically, systematically... as if there was some routine controlling every move.

She is in a semi conscious state. Looks like a zombie in a trance - almost. Walks to the kitchen. Loosens the valve on the gas cylinder. Breathes in the suffocating gas. A normal person would have choked, but it was like it calmed her instead.

Breathe 1, 2, 3... 4

The gas fills the room, spreads...

I loved you. I loved all of you.

You destroyed me. All of you, one by one.

She opens the matchbox.

Goodbye

Strike one.