The Her in Hero

Prologue

She curled her legs up underneath her, and prepared to wipe the day away from her face. With each stroke, the creamy solution left her skin, allowing her to breathe again. The dull ache in her heart pierced, knowing another day was over, another lost.

As she leaned back onto the decorative pillows placed on her bed, her blonde hair tumbled out of its bun, falling around her face. She checked her phone, one last scroll through Instagram, another quick click on twitter, and a browse on Facebook. She found herself, at 2.03am, eyes burning with the need of sleep.

Most nights she lays awake, looking at pointless things on social media which have no bearing on her life. But somehow, she trains herself to believe this is part and parcel with being 'normal' nowadays, keeping up with the experience of the online world. Which as it goes is pretty lame. Obviously, nothing you see on social media is actually a true representation of life, but yet, more facades masking people's insecurities and vulnerabilities. Everyone needs to feel wanted, loved, liked, envied even, and social media just feeds into that whole mindset.

These thoughts flurried around her head. So much to say, but no voice to promote it. Her mind was like wandering through a meadow, only to fall off a waterfall at the end. To be skidding round a bend on the dual carriage way, landing on a bed of marsh-mellows. She was wild, introvertly wild, it all was kept inside that brain of hers. She was intelligent, in the modest sense, she always achieved good grades, never middle of the range, more towards the higher end of the spectrum. She could turn her hand to most things, but with her effort level reaching a mere 56%, she coasted through her academic career. Obtaining A-Levels and two degrees, she was building quite the portfolio. Not that any of it mattered.

She was at a crossroads, recently reeling from a break-up that basically broke her, and being in an emotional purgatory, she was in no state to make a career choice. So, instead, she allowed time to escape her, whizzing by, unstoppable, not allowing her to jump in. All of the things she wanted to be pounded in her brain, yet she could not find what she was after. 'What will make me happy?' She thought, knowing that despite the numerous voices in her head, none would give her an answer.

She was never usually like this, this is only happening because of him. When he left her, he took her soul with him, leaving behind this hollow carcass of a girl, one who used to embrace life with open arms. Since he left, she had to scrape herself off the bathroom floor each night at 2am, telling herself she needed to go to sleep, that the sooner she slept the quicker the murderous pain in her chest would stop. This is where her sleeping pattern originated, on that cold bathroom floor.

With heavy eyes, and an even heavier heart, she began to slowly try to close her eyes, dreaming of his hands gently grazing her skin with the lightest touch, to capture her in his arms... safe and protected. In her lucid state she would reach up towards his chin, laying her head over his heart. All the while, this is short-lived, despite being her favourite bedtime story, he is also her relentless nightmare.

As she lay awake, 4am now, she sees the day break through her windows. The brightness filled her room, filling her with nostalgia for the girl who would have felt fortunate to witness earth in its beautiful form. She would have ran downstairs and grabbed her coffee, using this time to truly become captivated, by the day, by now. The girl would hold the mug close to her chest, close enough that her heart beat and pulse throbbed in unison, with the moment being quiet enough to hear the beat of her life. But, instead, she rubs her eyes, pressing lightly, making the view portray dancing stars and swirling lights. She wasn't ready for another pointless day to begin. None are filled with joy, all are engulfed in the saga of him, whether it be good or bad.

What he did to her stole her light, her laughter, and her aura. Since he left, she had desperately tried to make her life in order, preventing people from seeing just how much she was breaking inside. She over-compensated for her lack of empathy and compassion with talking, excessive talking, talking about all kinds of things. Her counsellor told her it was a way of filling in the silences that she found so deafening. She would babble, talk about something so irrelevant, or bring it back to something she was passionate about, because there can't be any prolonged silences when you're so engrossed in the conversation. Until she realises, no one else is remotely interested about the way the constitution in the UK is unfounded or that the new Marvel movie plot line was out of sync. So she would go quiet, and allow the anxiety to spread over her like a shadow, engulfing all light, leaving only despair.

The next hour rolls on, till she decides to check her phone again, "5:29", she knew she had fucked it. She started work in only 4 hours, not including travel there, and then travelling from the station when she gets there. She squinted her eyes shut, "please, please let me sleep", and like that she goes still, rigid, knowing that her consciousness is slipping away. She sees his hands reach out, through the black waters where she is fighting for her breath. "He wants me?" she dreamed, his large arms pulling her out of the water. Rolling over, she rests with a slight smile allowing the fairy tale dream to take over her senses. You can tell its working, her brows release their tension and her shoulders roll back. She is like this, still, her beautiful dream running wild in her mind.

The alarm rings loud in her ears, telling her senses its day break, another day to fight against. She rolls out of bed and stumbles into the bathroom, allowing her eyes to adjust to the sight in the mirror, the dark circles under her eyes make her face puffy and disproportionate. She pulls at it, "eugh", she hated her complexion and what she saw in the mirror, no wonder he didn't like her. The morning commute was mundane and boring, and she knew that she would probably dose off on the train before it pulls into Euston station.

As the tights slip over her knees, she shimmies into them till they reach her waist. The black roll neck is pulled over her head flattening her ever expanding hair, she smooths it over her belly and grabs the tweed skirt resting on her chair. The black pointed heels are staring at her by the mirror, another day to kill her feet. Gosh, the joys of being a woman.

Down the stairs, out the door and into her car, another day of playing 'let's see if I can beat the traffic', the 8.05 train pulls in and she rushes on board and into her favourite seat. The kindle she treasures rests perfectly on her leather bag, as she reads and delves deeper into yet another romantic novel. She was 22, in a new full time job, with no idea what she wanted to do in the world, whether her job actually was something she could be good at, or if there was a whole new life out there waiting for her, if she would just go and grasp at it.

See the thing is, she was so unsure of herself, all she knew was him, for the last 3 years, he was her life, she would wake up next to him in the morning, and fall asleep next to him at night. They would eat breakfast and dinner together and talk about the future, their kids, only two they wanted. A girl and a boy, and a huge house, big enough for a lot more kids but he wouldn't want that. Two dogs and enough space for horses, he wanted to be the breadwinner, of course. She knew this life was one she should have, and should have wanted. And, don't get me wrong she did, but she knew something inside of her was telling her she needed more, something more fulfilling, to be exposed and out there in the real world, living and experience all life has to offer. But still, she took shelter in knowing she was in his world, and he was all of hers, it was comfort and her safety blanket, she didn't know anything else, and she didn't want to either.

So when he left, he took all of that, he took absolutely everything, including most of her too. So now, instead of dating, like she should be doing, she takes solace in the heroes in her books. If only she could be loved like Gatsby loved Daisy, or like Edward loved Bella even, very different, but true love all the same. As she shoved her way off of the central line and onto the escalators at Euston station she heard the rain thundering down, she grabbed her bags and sprinted up the stairs and out of the second exit. She showed the security guards at her law firm her pass and swiftly moved through the corridors.

And there, in front of her, in a navy suit with dark messy brown hair, which she swore was gleaming under the ceiling mirrors of the east wing building, was a, a, he must be about 6'2? With shoulders, huge fucking shoulders, and large arms, she was sure they would probably break the seams on his suit jacket, he hadn't even turned around yet, or was he about too. Her knees had gone jelly and she clipped her heels together and tried to move from the space she had been routed too. He was turning, 45 degrees, nearly facing her...

The lift sound went off, unblocking her subconscious, she tried to move, stepping into the doorway of the lift, when her bag got caught between her knees and her black heels, those damned black heels got caught in the bottom of the lift. She knew it there and then, after just seeing him in her lobby at work, she was going to smash her face into the mirrored glass, and she could see it flash before her, her red lipstick smudged against the back of the lift, the impact of her fall.