Decisions Made

She looks at her reflection for the last time. Her eyes are dull, highlighted only by the dark circles around them, her skin pale and drawn, and her hair long and unkempt. She says goodbye, tries to smile, realizes she can’t, not with the fat lip and the broken jaw. It doesn’t matter anyway; she’s done being this woman.

Twenty minutes later she emerges, hair short, skin clean, makeup fresh.  It’s amazing what a shower and a little Maybelline can do. She steps over his body, kicking the bloody toaster from his hand. Her subconscious hasn’t processed her freedom yet. It remains in survival mode and she’s fine with that. It’s an emotion she knows well.

She walks out; leaving everything she has or has ever had behind. With every step she feels an urgency to run, but she resists. She’s done being that woman.

Two thousand miles to the west and four years later, she’s all but forgotten that woman. She is new and without fear. She is strong and determined.

She doesn’t see the couple until they are already seated in the corner. The sun is shinning so bright on the pair that they appear to shimmer.  A sense of familiarity washes over her. She dismisses it, smiling as she brings coffee.

She freezes as he turns towards her, unaware the coffee is now at her feet. Her stomach turns to stone. She can see toast crumbs, soaked in blood, peppering his hair. His eyes are cloudy and unfocused.  He looks right through her. The woman cowers in the booth.  Her hair is dull and matted. Her lip fat and split. She’s wearing her fear and exhaustion oversized, like her clothes. Her gaze rises slowly from the table. She meets her own eyes half way up.

She sees herself. She is beautiful. She is clean and well kept. She is fearless. Most of all she is happy. She stares at herself in this parallel world, the end of a road not taken. Longing washes away her fear. Her weakness is pushed aside by the promise of strength. 

She looks at the man.

They both look at the man.

Both lives are a result of fear.

The fear of freedom. The fear of confinement

A different ending for each.

It’s what’s been done.

It’s what must be done. 

She is this woman.