Raven
By: XxIamARockstarxX
October 5 2013
Two years
Too much pain
It is all I can feel right now. As I lay on the hardwood floor, hugging my shaking and beaten body to sleep, I continue to cry.
It is already one in the morning and yet, I am still lying here. Like a pathetic child, all curled up in a fetal position and whispering to myself like a crazy woman.
It’s going to be alright. It’s going to be alright. It’s going to be alright.
It’s not going to be alright.
The voice inside my head whispers back and hard as I try not to believe it, I know it is the truth. It will never be again alright.
Death
That’s my only hope.
It’s my only chance to be free. Death is my only way out of this nightmare. It’s my only way out of him,
Death, my last chance away from Alex.
They say in order for you to know love, you should know first how to sacrifice. And I did that. I sacrifice all that I have.
Just for him.
He said he loved me, and I foolishly believed him. He never hurt me like this before. He never used a knife on me before. So, why now? What have I done to him to treat me like this?
A loud rumble of thunder can be heard from the distance and the first few drops of rain starts pouring down. I feel a shiver goes down to my spine. The soft patter of rain reminds me of his footsteps: The footsteps that signal that he’s near. He’s near and he’ll hurt me.
How long have I been lying like this? How long have I’ve been crying?
I let my bruised eyes wander as I slowly absorb the horrifying sight of my surroundings.
Thousands of things are lying there with me on the bloodstained floor: Broken pieces of glass, ripped bed sheets, broken CD’s, a destroyed cabinet, ripped pages of some long lost books, cans of beer, and a ripped picture of us.
My favorite picture of Alex and me, the one we took in our Junior Prom.
It was ripped right in the middle.
I am like them…Like the pieces that was scattered on the floor, I am broken.
Broken and shredded into tiny unrecognizable pieces that nothing or even no one can change us back the way we were.
No one can fix us.
The big gash on my cheeks is still open and letting a continuous flow of dark red liquid to flow across my face and enters my swollen mouth.
I want to throw up.
The taste of my own warm blood mixed with sweat and thick saliva sickens me to the core. It tastes like a rotten coppery candy. Sweet at first like some kind of a vanilla treat and then slowly becomes bitter…too bitter.
As thunder rumbled, a strong gush of wind that billows my long dirty night gown. The wind is so strong that in just a blink of an eye, the old window with its dust stained glass slams hard against the concrete wall.
