Beaten

Finally I allowed myself to open my eyes. I had kept them tightly shut for what felt like an age, but what welcomed them was hardly worth breaking their dark cover for; an empty and desolate situation, a chamber that seemed to vibrate with the aftermath of the previous evening. 

And then the memories filtered in, and those old familiar flames scorched the very edges of heart until I felt like a slow smouldering ember, scorched to bitter charcoal. The heat that came from the humiliation was nothing compared to the burn of those hot tears - the ones that shamefully fell so freely. And I was angry too, literally shaking with fury, but the break from within me would not let it burst forth. It was contained within splintered glass inside, thorns that barricaded and blades that guarded it fiercely. More ferociously than the rage that seared through my mind. 

I managed to reach for the cup that sat on top of the bedside cabinet and, after pressing the cold glass against my stinging face, I drank deeply from it. I was surprised the water was clear and refreshing, waking up my senses somewhat, and yet the liquid was now tinted pink after my use. I shuddered involuntarily, gnashing my teeth slightly which caused me to gasp aloud. The nerves along my jaw quivered unpleasantly as my cheeks felt numb and eye socket throbbed. I dared not attempt to look at my reflection just yet.