Title: Bruises
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Personal work.
Warnings: Angst, hints of abuse.
Summary: A look in the mirror.
Note: Mood writing, I don’t think it’s supposed to make sense. Partially true, partially fiction. I leave you to draw your own lines.

She could detect a coppery taste in her mouth, so she spit, revealing blood-tinged saliva. Feeling gently inside her mouth, her tongue searched for the cut but it seemd an impossible task. Unable to find it, she merely got herself a glass of water and gargled a bit to wash out her mouth.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened to her, nor would it be the last.

Her reflection told a gruesome story of a girl with too little sleep and too little food. There was even a slight bruise forming on the left side of her jawbone. Not a huge surprise. She had many bruises. They were merely a part of life to her and had been for as long as she could remember.

With a rueful sigh, she pushed herself away from the sink and exited the small washroom. Just when had bruises become so common? Had it always been that way? She couldn’t recall anymore. Probably for the best. After all, misery doesn’t seem quite so miserable if there is no pleasantness to compare it to. In the end, one becomes completely numb, little better than a walking doll.

When she did remember to fell, though, it was pain. The kind that could be felt through and through. A mind-numbing, crippling pain that left her crying until she ached from the hollowness inside.

Others never saw her that way. She seemed quite happy and well adjusted. No one saw the bruises, no one heard the screams, no one eased the pain.

Her only company, it seemed, was her reflection in the mirror. And she certainly wouldn’t be giving any of the sorely needed hugs or affection any time soon.