Shattered

The darkness of the night was her enemy, yet her contentment. The light of day evoked hope in her broken heart, yet created fear for what lay ahead.
Sleep was a source of relief for her, yet a prison for her mind. For her eyes to open every morning was a miracle, yet she lived in desperation.

She was an innocent soul, with a naive heart and a optimistic mind, but the ropes of her fate had been intertwined with a devious man, who possessed a heart of stone and sinister and cold behaviour.

She was thrown into the lions den and was left all alone to pick up the shattered pieces of her heart and piece them back together, but her heart would never ever be the same again.

Tears rolled down her porcelain cheeks and fell upon her lap like scattered pearls. Her lips quivered as her eyes settled on the deep gash in her thigh, fresh crimson blood oozed out of the gash, staining her favourite shirt.

This was her life now, a life where she was treated worse than an animal, where she was looked down upon with disgust and contempt, she was mocked and jeered at. She was forced to feel inferior, she was thrown around like a rag doll and used like an immoral woman.

She breathed, but never truly lived.
She pleaded for help, but her pleas were left unheard, she cried for mercy but not an ounce of mercy was shown to her.

She choked out a sob as he roughly grabbed her by her arm, his grip was tight enough to leave a bruise.

She winced as he pullled her upwards, not the least bothered about the pain that shot up her leg when he dragged her towards the door. He threw her onto the floor, slammimg the door shut.

She screamed when her injured thigh hit the leg of the table in the passage and an expensive vase tumbled down, landing onto the floor with a crash. She bit onto her tongue and sobbed harder when she saw the shattered shards of glass gleaming on the floor, once such a beautiful thing now shattered into smithereens just like her heart.