'It's insane to think that this is my life now'- This is the thought that plays repeatedly in my mind. as I shower, as I get dressed. The sting of the silent tears that continue to successively fall down my cheeks is long forgotten. My tears don't bother me anymore. I don't feel them anymore.
'It's insane to think that this is my life now' the song plays on a loop in my mind until I submit and become its slave. I don't know for how long I just lay there. a bundled mess on the floor, i curl into myself but still there's no sound. What happened to the girl that once believed in feeling everything wholeheartedly? The girl that felt and expressed every emotion fully? I could say that she died, except she hasn't. Somewhere inside me, I feel her. I hear her cries that threaten to spill out my mouth. I feel her facial muscles contorting with every smile that threatens to stretch my lips. I see the glimmer of a sparkle that threatens to shine out my eyes with every emotion that threatens to open my heart up, every dare to laugh once again, feel once again, see once again, live once again. I feel her as an echo of myself.
I hurl myself up and stare at the mirror, a ghost of my previous self is more suited to the appearance of the woman who stands before me. She dares to reach out to me and it startles me. I don't know what shocks me more, the emptiness in her eyes or the coldness in her touch. Oily strands of once thick black hair- now thin- cascade down her hollow cheekbones. A black mark adorns her left cheek, a matching one under her right eye. The split in her lower lip screams "I know what pain is" and she does, she knows it in her bones.
There's an aggressive pounding on the door followed by the drunken slur of a voice I've come to know all too well. A voice that I once adored, a voice that once calmed me when nothing on this earth would."Hey! I gotta get in there too, I'm gonna be late for work" thud thud thud. "Bree, I swear to every god in the heavens and below if you're not out here in 5 mins, not even your precious Jesus will be of any help"
A fierce flood of dread washes over me as I grab my belongings and make my way towards the door, I listen for his heavy breathing before I unlock the door. His footsteps retreat down the stairs, I scamper to Andrew's room and lock the door. Exactly 5 mins, I wait there, by the door as I hear laughter bubbling from downstairs. To them, he is and will always be the' father of the year', unbeknownst to them I've known the very same man completely differently. Though I must admit that it wasn't always this way, at some point he was the best man in the world, my rock. Dreams of the past are interrupted by the petrifying sound of the heavy footsteps that lug themselves up the stairs. Once our bedroom door bangs shut, I return to our room. I have exactly 10 mins. 10 mins to grab my purse and keys, and conceal my wounds. I slip on my turtle neck and blend my face out. I don't bother with lipstick or anything else, the joy of beautification fled my spirit the moment it became a mask rather than an enhancement of natural beauty. Today I wonder what beauty actually remains.
I get so lost in thought that the only reminder is the turning off of the shower faucet. I grab my purse and keys then fly down the stairs. I round the kids up and tell them they have 3 mins to get to the car where they are to find me waiting.