Regret

2. Have Struggles,

The white, blank ceiling.

Oh how she longed to be it.

If she wasn't her right now, if she could somehow take over as an inanimate object and become that for a day; she believed she would feel much better.

But she can't; and dreaming about being the ceiling isn't helping her mental state, it's not helping her worried dog, and it's certainly not helping her child, however small it may be.

Yet, she stayed where she was on the plush carpet, staring at the ceiling as the sun casted shadows and shapes across her body and dog; almost like it was trying to bring the light that was once in the girl, back again.

It didn't work.

She felt like she was doomed, and if she could cry, she probably would've; but she couldn't.

And it's wasn't because she was worried about her court clothes and makeup getting smudged and wrinkled, it wasn't because she was worried she might send her dog into a frenzy, and it wasn't because she was worried that her mom would burst in her house cussing about crying over spilled milk.

It was because she physically couldn't cry anymore, even though she wanted to.

I'm certain if anyone else saw her in that moment besides her mom, who dragged her up to not miss the important court date she had planned, they wouldn't of missed the way her face was so passive. How it stared straight up at the white, blank ceiling with no emotion at all in her cloudy eyes. Or how her dog right beside her was whining so loudly, yet the whines went unnoticed by the girl a few feet away.

They wouldn't of missed these things, but her mother did; and she was forced to tell the story that made her like this again, except this time with a whole jury and judge looking at her every movement.

But what really broke her; what made her cloudy eyes start to mist; what made her mom start to cuss; what made the jury start to talk; and what made the judge start to tap his little gavel; was him.

A man sitting smugly in his orange jumpsuit.