a/n: sorry for starting a fic and taking a decade to continue it, i've been busy i fear.
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tw: mentions of domestic violence
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Siobhan sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was a mess, she could feel makeup smudged down her face, she was in pain, and she was lying on the floor next to broken glass.
It took her a second to re-process the events of the previous night. With it all suddenly rushing back to the poor girl, she became overwhelmed and began to sob, questioning how she had let this become her life.
Slowly standing up, she realised how badly her ankle was injured; she hadn't tried to put this much weight on it since she fell over. Roger must have kicked it hard. Siobhan winced in pain slightly as she began to walk on it. Quietly, she crept up the stairs, making sure she didn't awaken the beast that was sprawled, snoring on the sofa. It was early in the morning — the daylight was just beginning to creep in, and if she didn't make too much noise, she could get ready and leave before Roger woke up.
The blonde opened the door to the bathroom, closed it, and locked it. There was an en suite in the bedroom Roger and herself shared, but she preferred the other bathroom, the one Roger never used. To his knowledge, that room was simply collecting dust. However, Siobhan's things were in there, in the airing cupboard. She kept her expensive makeup, medical supplies and other necessities away from Roger, to herself.
Leaning against the door, she let the tears pour more as she tried to compose herself.
"Just let it out Siobhan," she whispered to herself. It was hard to be her own comfort, but she didn't have anybody else.
Taking a shaky breath and managing to stop the tears, she leaned on the sink and looked in the mirror. Glassy, green eyes stared back at hers. Mascara covered her cheeks, and lipstick was smudged below her lip. She was a mess.
As Siobhan ran the shower, she opened the airing cupboard and moved the spare towels, taking her hidden toiletries out and placing them neatly onto the counter by the sink. The woman undressed, wincing in pain once again as she remembered Roger had also hurt her shoulder. Siobhan fought back tears as she stood in front of the mirror. It was cold, and she felt vulnerable in this state.
Tears began to fall once more as she wondered if she would ever see her own body again without feeling shame. She felt the need to cover up, to hide herself, even alone in the bathroom. Siobhan stared at the bruises he had left, the cuts, the marks on her skin.
After composing herself yet again, she realised the heat from the shower had begun to warm the room. As the mirror steamed up, the image of herself she'd shamefully stared at became blurry.
Sighing, she stepped into the shower and felt the warm water envelop her.
Something about the shower felt safe and comforting. The warmth allowed her to relax, rid her of the constant tension, even if only for a short amount of time. She closed her eyes and shut off her mind, just allowing emotions to course through her. This was one of very few times she could openly feel. Throughout the day she would have to wear her cold and careless persona, then when she arrived home she would have to become whoever Roger wanted her to be. Right now, Siobhan was simply her.
Fifteen blissful minutes passed, and after tenderly cleansing her body, the blonde stepped out of the shower. She felt a cold breeze hit her, along with the pain of reality, as she wrapped a towel around herself.
Walking over to the sink, she cracked the window open slightly to air out the room, and get rid of the steam that covered the surfaces. Roger wouldn't enter this room, nor notice she had used it, but she did this just in case.
Siobhan dressed herself, taking care not to hurt her wounds any further. She felt fragile and useless as she winced in pain from simply lifting her shoulder above her head. This man was destroying her, breaking her down little by little. Hopelessness enveloped her and caused tears to sting in her eyes. But she couldn't cry now. Taking deep breaths, she started to bury these thoughts; she couldn't let the tears fall now. It was time to switch off her feelings — she was good at that.
