And I'm sitting here, thinking, I hate what does this to her...
Every day. She flew up the staircase, as she did, to escape. The monsters below, seemingly, did not care to follow her at that moment. She locked the flimsy door, a meaningless gesture, an artless notion of privacy. She cried on her bed until her pillow was soaked and salty, pressed thin into the top of the mattress by the gravity of her slender face. The tears pooled and ran down, stinging her dry lips fiercely, an outward pain that assured only reality.
A time passed that she did not quantify. As she turned to face the ceiling, she was overcome by a heavy numbness. A fog fell, hot and stale, suffocating and reluctant to provide even the shortest respite of clarity. She had no thoughts, and through mist covered eyes she saw the world in a sickening blur. Her life. The man-the boy that she had dreamed of but, for his own flaws and hers, was gone. The others were still downstairs. She felt she yearned for the beach, for warm sand and cool waters.
A gentle knock, the deep rumbling of a foghorn, shook her from her semi-conscious state. She blinked, then informed the intruders that they could come in, if they fucking wanted. It was their fucking house, after all. The frame rattled as the door was pushed open, the locks providing only the slightest resistance, as if they demanded resolution. The bed depressed near the headboard, a figure sat silently. She did not move as her mother ran her fingers through her hair, telling her she was sorry, so sorry.
Life could be terrible, and she was learning that, but she had to move on, too.
She turned to her mother, exposing hopelessness in smeared, diluted makeup.
I can't, she said as she looked up. Mom it's so hard, I don't know what to do.
She begged, her voice filled with every ounce of desperation she had not already lost in tears.
Sweetie, it's hard, but you have to get over it. Her mother's voice was sugary, disgusting, bubbling with tones of dutiful placation.
She wanted to cry out forever, to have someone hear her. Out on the ocean, in the reflection of a shimmering horizon, wouldn't someone understand?
For a while, her mother was silent, and she swam, at length, in the receding waters of her own mind.