Seeing The Damage

She couldn’t stand for too long, which made it even more laboring. Her steps were loud and clamorous, throwing her balance off just enough to need another equally clumsy step. Dragging. That was what she felt. Her energy seeped, and her heart beat heavily. Still, there was an absolute necessity to reach that mirror. Irelle spread her arms wide out to her sides, managing enough balance and bracing for any fall. This terrible sensation was most definitely not a result of the medication. It was not her sickness suddenly spiraling out of control with no medicine able to cure it. It was not the blood thinners suddenly needed to stop her from having those terrible chest tremors.

Another step, this time causing enough impact with the floor to shake the frail glass ornaments sitting idly on the decorative hall tables. It was starting to get hot, and uncomfortably stuffy. Irelle takes a deep, noisy inhale through her mouth. Wheezing; nothing that the doctor was guessing as ailments had wheezing as symptoms. This was worse. Irelle knew it. She knew Halman knew it too. How long did he do this before she figured it out? Irell’s legs began to feel like stiff iron bars. Almost immobile.
Then, raising her eyes, she finds herself in front of it. The mirror. It had been quickly draped with an old ripped curtain, some of it caked in dust. Reaching out her swollen hand, Irelle tried her best to bend her fingers, barely grasping the cloth. The sensation of moving her hands felt like it would bust right out the skin. It hurt quite a lot. Irelle fixes her stance, making sure to have steady footing as she motions to pull off the curtain. Slowly but steadily, the curtain slides off the edge of the frame, before collapsing itself to a dusty pile.

In front of Irelle stood a woman she could not recognize. The hands were beet red, with variant shades of purple and blue veins decorating the skin. The pajama pants she had worn before being bed ridden were clearly jaggedly cut up in order to accommodate her legs. Below the knee, the calves swole immensely and turn a steady maroon, with visible pussing and oozing fluid from open sores. The swelling of the face was most grieving. With little sensation of her fingers, Irelle touched her own face, and found that the ugly, protruded and pale figure was in fact herself. This was it, this was the damage Halman had caused. This is what led Taina to succumb to her mystery sickness and eventually die such a fowl death. It was all because of Halman.