Standing, still as a photograph, I admired my surroundings. Alone. I was all alone- yet I was free. Finally, I could say "I'm free!"
Despite the joy of my new found freedom, there was a feeling at the back of my mind that I just couldn't shake off. I felt hopeless, I felt scared, I felt broken. The trees blew in the wind freely. They laughed at my insecurities as they swayed from side to side trying to reassure me that everything was going to be just fine. The sun forced its way through the clouds and cascaded down onto me; basking me in its warm, kind, safe arms. But... I still felt hopeless, I still felt scared, I still felt broken.
As I watched the bees and the butterflies dance around the flowers merrily, I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I had let myself be objectified for abuse for so long (well, for anytime at all I guess.) I had always told myself that my life wouldn't be the same as theirs. The same as my grandmothers, my mothers and my sisters. The same as the soap characters off the TV. Crying from the top of the stairs, I promised myself it would be different for me. Except, it wasn't.
So I began walking. I didn't know where I was going- I didn't really care. Then the inevitable happened; salty tears streamed down my face, the air became to thick to swallow. Spluttering for air. Was I broken beyond repair?
I began to recognise the street I had found myself walking along. Red brick houses, gardens trimmed with pretty flowers curtains hanging in the squeaky clean windows hiding a world of lies and secrets. My heart began to race faster, and then I saw him standing in the doorway. I forced a smile onto my face and I wiped tears out of my eyes. I went back to him because I am weak. I went back to him because I have no hope left. I went back to him because I am broken.
