Shattered

I lived alone. Sheltered under wooden beams within soundproof walls. Everything that happened in my home was in my control. I ran my fingers through the coarse hair on my head as gray strands fell out of my scalp. I let them float to the floor. I picked up a mug on my nightstand, the one that was given to me in the mail by my daughter last Christmas, and threw it against the magenta wall. Shattered. I took a step back, letting the sun seeping in from the window shine bright into my eyes. Sunlight - illuminating children playing on a tire swing in the park outside of my home. There was a peacefulness to the sight. A feeling washed over me, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, I wasn’t numb. I rummaged through the closet to find my coat, and turned the knob on the front door, hesitating only for a moment. The children turned to face me, the look on their faces was like they had just witnessed the return on Frankenstein. I moved towards the children, finding a spot on the tire swing next to a red headed girl. A little boy with dainty freckles stepped forward and began to push the swing. Suddenly, I was flying. With my eyes closed I imagined a life without borders. A life like the one I had when I was a child, before the attack. Before I needed to shut myself in, to remove the possibility of being violated again. There was something frightening, yet enchanting about the unknown. Knowing that life could be good or bad, or maybe both. I had lived in the same house, doing the same things, without anybody else for thirty years. The same routine every day. I was done. Predictability was over. My new life had begun.