Deadly Dance

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The water cascading over my head was cold as the ice in my veins. Only my tears were warm.

I did not deserve the comfort of hot water.

With what I had done.

I scrubbed at my shivering body until my skin hurt. I needed to make myself clean. I deserved pain.

With what I had done.

I was still dirty when I eventually switched off the flow from the shower. Of course I was. Filthy. I doubted I would ever be clean again. Not really.

My right shoulder hurt at the top.

I reached to touch it. My fingers came away stained with my own blood. I had rubbed myself raw.

The sight of the blood turned my stomach. I reached the lavatory just in time. I fell to my knees retching and was sick into the bowl again and again and again. It was as if my body were purging itself. I stood up and stared into the mirror above the basin.

In order to survive, I had to regain control of myself.

The eyes staring back at me were rimmed red because of my tears.

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