19 April 2012
She was a victim. In her hand she held a small envelope, full of necessary documents to see her decision through. Upstairs she could hear her four year old daughter talk to her dolls and she felt a sickening twist in her stomach as her unborn baby grew inside of her. The weather outside was glorious; yellow sunshine lit up the outdoors and the flowers bloomed during this early spring period. Daffodils had risen once again from their earthy graves, poking their extravagant yellow heads through the ground and into the fresh air, growing, climbing towards the sunlight.
She looked at her hand, her left hand, and caressed her ring finger, feeling the groove where a ring used to lay, a permanent scar that would forever remind her of what could've been, but what she failed to make work. Worse still, her children were caught in the middle of this mess. He was a good man, her husband, but it just wouldn't work. She married out of desperation, she wanted a house, a family and this yearning to have the ideal life became the biggest mistake she ever made. The woman, a young woman, walked towards the window, pushing a strand of white blonde hair behind her ear. Her face bore no make up, her clothes were simple and comfortable, so different to the young girl she once knew, she young girl with a full heart who was innocent to marriage. Now, here she stood, older and wiser but torn apart, her heart shattered and her mind warped from the pain she has suffered and the despair she has endured.
Torn Apart • Opuss № I