Monday, 25 June 2012

The Remains of A Mistress...




Wailing and panting she ran towards the bathroom. The enormous bathroom where she’d once played hide and seek with her friends in. The cold marble floor felt numb under her burning feet. Slipping over the water that had leaked from the Jacuzzi she slipped and fell on the glass basin. The sharp broken corner cut her hand, but she didn’t notice.
Kohl smudged eyes, tears forming dirty paths on her face, her pink lipstick spread downwards on the left side of her face. She opened the tap to splash water on her mushy distorted face that was made up like a beautiful painting a while ago. The blood from her hand mixed with water formed distributaries all over her face. She looked at herself in the mirror over the basin. Horrified. Horrified and Angry.
Who was she? What was she? No she wasn’t… then who was she?
She walked back towards the room. Drops of diluted blood still shining on her face. Her white stall that was now a dirty shade of red and black. Was she the girl in the pictures hanging on the walls? Reflecting every shade of the spectrum in a smile? Wearing every color on the pallet, everything that looked stupid. Hugging friends, boys, girls, old ones, little ones. Every expression, so animated, so wild.
She ran a hand over the collage of pictures stuck randomly on the pin board, leaving  blood stains everywhere. Where had she lost this girl wearing jeans, jumpers and a pair of converse? A rucksack on one shoulder, a bottle of Budweiser in the hand, a grin stuck to her face. Standing with her brother on one side and her best friend on the other. She wondered where her best friend was now. She wondered how he was, if he missed her. Was he angry at her for just disappearing? Did he try looking for her? Would he recognize if he went and stood in front of him today?
More pictures, more memories, more questions and more tears. Her room was nothing but a big collage of photos. Photos of her, with friends from places all around, in places all around. Photos of her having fun, living what is meant to be lived. Laughing, making faces, blowing raspberries, playing pranks, gulping beer. And then she saw him, in the last set of her pictures, her memories.
He looked decent, smiled almost like an angel. Those dimples, the golden skin. The veins sticking out of his over bulging muscles…and those cat eyes. She felt herself muttering. Words of anger, words of hate, words of filth. He changed her, he ruined her, he killed her.
There was a pool of blood on the floor now. Footsteps covered in blood, on white serene marble. She looked down at her blood. Kept staring at it with disgusted eyes. Her blood. Her own blood, that she’s deceived. Family! Bonds! Relations! Everything that she’d shooed away from her.
She started to shiver, shake like she was being shaken by someone. And then it happened, she let it out. A scream. It took her years to do this. Just scream it out. The pain, the fury, the helplessness. All let out!
She now knew what she was. A body without soul. The remains of a mistress…

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