Pressing against the hallway wall,
She watched as strangers walked in and out of the house.
She watched as they carried different items.
A nightstand,
A rack full of hangers,
A small statue of a sad looking beagle.
His expression Relatable.
Her heart clenches as each item made it pass the front door.
Breath hitching as she catches sight of a portrait.
Smile Charming,
Eyes Bright,
Cheeks Flushed.
His hair freshly ruffled.
She remembers.
Before even realising what she had done,
She had knocked down the man holding the sizeable picture.
Grabbing the Item that was so much more than just some random thing that could be dumped in a land field.
Running up the stairs,
Adrenaline pumping through her veins,
Heart beating rapidly.
Locking the door shut just behind her as she enters the room.
Hugging the frame tight,
She relinquished in the freeness she felt,
As tears slid down her cheeks.
Drip Drip Drip
She could hear them falling onto the hardwood floor.
No More Pretending like she was Fine,
No More Hiding behind smiles that Hurt,
No More Secretly Hiding in closets when the Pain got Too Much,
No More Denying that she was over It.
No more Losing herself in Notes when she felt Alone,
Or Trying to Lose herself in Lines and Pages when the Isolation got too much.
It was Unbearable.
Living like This.
YOU ARE READING
Breakage
Short StoryBreakage: ˈbreɪkɪdʒ/ noun the action of breaking something, or the fact of being broken. - P.s. I know the title and the description is probably sh*tty but PLEASE!! Don't be deterred by it... 😅😣😖
