Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for mature content.
The Triumph Of These Tired Eyes
by You Local Neighborhood Werecat
When she tripped, she hit the doorknob. That’s why she had a black eye. When she tripped, she landed badly. That’s why her arm was broken. She broke a vase, tripped and landed on a sharp piece. That’s why she needed stitches for her back.
Her husband was a good man, and he’d never hurt her, no. Please don’t ask again.
Looking back, the word trip became the only hint she’d let pass through her lips, for fear of bruises born from talking too much. Terror gripped her tightly, a constant nausea in her stomach, and she wondered at what point she’d started thinking that state was normal.
Police sirens and blinking lights were providing a discordant harmony to her thoughts. In the background, faceless people sectioned off the house behind her, muttering “murder” about it.
When was it, she wondered, numb. When was it that she had finally tired of fists and forced silence and bruises that left her aching and ashamed? When was it that she had decided that if he hurt her again, she’d hurt him back?
Had it really been just this morning?
She had looked into the mirror, the bathroom light harsh enough to make her bruises look so much worse, and stared at her reflection, aghast. Her eyes looked dead, like a doll’s. She had never liked dolls, considering them unnerving, but she looked like one of them now. Dead eyes and a dead smile, face ashen like ivory. For one, brief moment, she’d questioned what had happened to her for her to look like that.
A bruise on her stomach drew her gaze, and she’d felt her eyes narrow in anger, for the first time in three years.
“No more.”
The mutter surprised her, and she’d nearly startled at her own gall, but had steeled and reaffirmed herself. No more. She wouldn’t be beaten down any longer.
The next time her husband tried to hurt her, she’d fight back. She was tired of this terror.
She wondered now, in the present, sitting on the curb outside that home - not hers, never hers, never safe enough to claim - whether it was coincidence or fate or some kind of sick, twisted karma that forced her to uphold her vow that very night after she’d made it to herself.
She shuddered, and barely registered the blanket someone set on her shoulders.
She never knew a human body could bleed that much.
Curling into herself, she wondered what would happen to her now. She was surrounded by police officers, her hands and shirt were covered in her husband’s blood and there was no way, no way, that she was getting out of a trial, and she was so very, very guilty of what’d she’d done…
She’d forsaken God two years ago, but she prayed to him now, asking him for the strength she needed to boost her flagging courage.
A police woman with kind, understanding eyes called her over, and she followed willingly, remembering another time and place. A white dress and promises of love and safety from a man who broke every vow he ever made flashed through her mind as she recalled the last time she’d followed anyone.
She prayed that she wouldn’t regret it this time.
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125,009 Literary Works • 672,837 Reviews
its amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! far better than i've read in other places. a lot of emotions run throughout this thing which makes it really impressive.no extra descriptions are there which also makes it really nice.you knew what to write and ..........................................................
(no words left for this piece)
i really hope to read more of your works
tanya
Here to review.
This is amazing. It is wonderfully written, and by the time I finished reading it I had to wait a second to get my bearings and write this review. I especially like the way you start, because it is very unusual, and you start it off as if we were already in the action and knew what was happening. That doesn't always work, but the way you did it, it did work. The more we get into the story, the more things start clicking in place, and the more we understand things that we thought we understood but didn't really. At least, that's what happened to me. I actually have nothing negative to say about this. It's that good.
However, I'm not sure if this is a script. Isn't it simply a short story?
I'm looking forward to reading more of your works.
Keep writing,
Odd
You've written the character's point of view so well. I felt scared, relieved and a whole range of emotions for her throughout the story. I also got a chance to understand how she was feeling, even though I never truly can. From the first sentence, the story explained what was happening. You didn't write any boring, useless descriptions or mention what colour shirt she was wearing. You told me exactly what I needed to know, when I needed to know it. Although it was such a chilling piece, it was so beautifully written. You've left me wanting to know how her trial goes. Well done on this piece on writing.