Excerpt From A Novel I am not Writing

photo-1429117237875-aa29229d99f0She immediately shuts the door behind her as she enters the apartment. She leans against the closed door trying to catch her breath having run up the nine flights of stairs. Choking back the tears she crumples to the floor and the tears flow freely. Her eyes have betrayed her. He has betrayed her. Life has betrayed her. The tears become sobs and she has trouble catching her breath. She opens her mouth to let out a silent scream. Despite her anguish she doesn’t need her neighbours calling the cops at least she still has some wits about her she thinks to herself. She has never felt so raw, a gaping wound in the centre of her chest. She takes off her purse and pulls off her leather coat and black heels and crawls to her bedroom on her hands and knees but instead of making her way into bed she goes and huddles in the corner of the room. Her eyes have adjusted to the darkness and the lights from outside give the room an eery yellow glow. She feels safe in the corner of her room.  Here she can hide and she feel protected by the walls pressed against her back. Just like she did when she was a scared child, hiding in her room with her hands over her ears trying to block out her mother screaming at her brother. Wanting it to stop, praying for it to stop but what could she do?  She hears her mother’s voice now inside her head, “I told you so. Use you up and throw you out that’s what men do”.  “Oh fuck off, Mother”, she thinks to herself. But the voice doesn’t stop and she feels worthless and used.  She closes her eyes and the scene comes to life before her eyes.



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