Forever Young

Broken Heart.

When she finally arrived at her small apartment, she collapsed onto the couch, her heart aching with a sadness she had never known before. The silence of the room seemed to amplify her loneliness, and she allowed herself to cry freely for the first time since hearing the news.

Lucy's despair swelled within her like a dark tidal wave, consuming every rational thought and drowning her in a sea of pain. In her anguish, she found herself stumbling towards the bathroom, gripped by a desperate need for release. She locked the door behind her, the cold metal a harsh contrast against her delicate skin.

Staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror, she reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out a small blade she used for opening difficult packages. The sight of her own blood began to feel like the only way to quell the torment inside her. She needed to get rid of some of the emotional burden, turn it into physical pain..

With a trembling hand, she raised the blade and pressed it against her wrist. The initial sting morphed into a strange sort of numbness as she made the first cut. Tears streamed down her face as she continued, each slash a silent scream into the void. The crimson liquid trickled down her arms, staining her clothes and pooling onto the cold tile floor. The world around her grew hazy as she slid to the ground, the agony momentarily replaced by a feeling of emptiness... numbness?

Yet even in the midst of this self-inflicted torment, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered, *This isn't the answer.* But the pain was too great, the sorrow too profound, and she couldn't bring herself to listen. She trusted that exact same voice when she started dating Tim and look at where it got her..

Lucy's despair morphed into a whirlwind of frenzied activity as she staggered to her feet, leaving the bloody mess behind her in the bathroom. She moved through her small apartment with a singular purpose: to cleanse herself of the pain that clung to every surface. To erase Tim..

She grabbed cleaning supplies and began scrubbing furiously, tears still streaming down her face. As she wiped away dirt and dust, she couldn't help but think of Tim and the life they could have had. *Why wasn't she enough for him? Why couldn't he see past his own ambition to see how much she loved him?* *they could have figured it out!* Each thought was a dagger twisting in her gut, but she refused to let it stop her. She needed something to focus on, something to keep her grounded amidst the chaos of her emotions.

So she scrubbed and cried and shouted silent accusations at the empty rooms. Hours passed, and by the time she finished, her once cluttered home was spotless, and it was now time for work. But the hollowness inside her remained, a gaping chasm that no amount of cleaning could fill.