| Late Night scares. |
[21 Nov 2004|07:08pm] |
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mood |
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 scared |
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music |
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The Eagles. I can't tell you why. |
] |
Mirrors. Everyone looks in them every once in a while. Everyone's a little vain. Celebrían never took herself a the vain type, but this was different. The scars were still deep within her, if not physically, mentally.
She woke from a dream - actually, a nightmare. Her space in the bed soaked with sweat, sheets and blankets more on the floor than keeping her warm. The absence of her husband was no help. She had been dreaming of that journey. She felt, all over again, her skin tearing, bruising. She knew she must have screamed out loud, and wondered why no one had come.
"Why when I find myself to be happy, do they remind me of the things that hurt me most?" She asked aloud, and she rose from her bed. Her feet carried her to a basin, where she splashed her red face with cool water.
The mirror. Celebrían looked up as the the water dripped back to the basin. She knew the scars weren't there, but she swore she could feel the soreness where they should have been. Pulling at the cloth of her night slip, she became frustrated, yet satisfied having not discovered any wounds.
A heavy sigh flew from her lungs, and she sunk down against the wall beside the mirror, letting her head fall between her knees.
"All I want is to forget."
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