She’s standing there in front of the mirror. Staring at her own reflection.
Her wide dark eyes look hollow. Like all the lights and life have left and nothing remains.
The shadows around her eyes are also too dark on her pale skin.
When she closes her eyes, she hears a voice asking, “what are you doing?”
There’s no one in that room. It must be the voice in her own head. Or it’s just a devil living inside her room. She never cares.
Apparently, the pain she bears everyday is already too great to care with something else.
“Praying,” she answers to that voice.
“Praying for what?” That voice asks back.
“For strength,” she chokes out. Holding back the tears that already pool in her eyes.
“What strength?”
“The strength to get through the day where he’s there. But he’s talking about someone else, not me.”
“Just leave then. Don’t see him.”
“I can’t,” her voice is almost inaudible.
“Why?”
“Because it hurts me more not to see him.”
And all of the tears she’s holding back start streaming down her cheeks.
When she open her eyes again, they’re bloodshot. But she wipes her cheeks dry and gets on with her day.
Smiling and laughing like her dark morning routines never exist.
Like she’s not carrying the pieces of her heart only to spread them flat to be stomped.
Over and over again.
——
Until one rainy morning. When the sun even hesitates to show to spread its warmth.
“Aren’t you tired?” That voice is asking her a different question this time.
“I am. Do you know how much I wish I never woke up in the morning. But I did,” she answers. Her voice sounds hollow, and there’s no pity or sadness in it.
“And I still wonder what color of his shirt will be today. What kind of small things that will affect his mood again today. Or just the little urge to remind myself how dark his hair is that even under the sunlight they don’t change color,” she adds. Again, there’s no emotions in her sentences.
“Pray for something else today. Not strength,” that voice tells her.
“Why?” She asks.
“I will grant it for you whatever it is. Just once. Just this time. You’re taking your lifespan by using that strength you pray everyday.”
She opens her eyes, feeling somewhat alarmed. She looks around the room only to find it empty except her soul.
The hairs on her body begin to rise up. She also thinks the temperature has gone down a few degrees for the last few minutes.
But she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes again. She almost laughs at herself, thinking she must have gone crazy for real now.
“Aren’t you going to pray?” That voice asks her again gently.
She can feel her heart is beating too fast now.
“Yes. I pray for him to worship me, to love me, and to lay his heart on my hand.”
“You’re a greedy little one,” that voice chuckles faintly.
She opens her eyes, staring at the mirror to her own eyes. There’re no tears this time. They look much darker, like two twin onyx, but somehow alive.
As if this time, a little hope finally finds its way to her eyes and brings them back to life.
“Then he will. He definitely will do,” that voice tells her. “But I will ask for a price.”
She smiles now. She doesn’t care about the price.
.
.
.
xxx
LAC
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