Photo Prompt by Ian O’Neill
Shards fell to the floor as a spider web of cracks jumped through the remaining glass. Night air rushed in, cooling the sweat on her arms and neck. She stared at her fragmented reflection in the window, vaguely aware of the blood pulsing from her sliced hand. Chest heaving, heart pounding, so much rage dispelled so quickly; the unspent adrenaline leaving her light-headed.
Turning, she surveyed the damage, laughing at the thought of his reaction. His precious sanctuary now lay in ruin; every accolade ripped from the wall, every book thrown from the shelves, every smiling face torn to shreds, and now drops of crimson decorated the Berber in front of his shattered view.
Broken like her life, her spirit, her dreams; destroyed not with one night of rage, but by a lifetime of lies and manipulations. Made to feel guilty for her own suffering, she had begged forgiveness for his sins, and apologized for his transgressions.
Glass crunched as she dropped to her knees, too numb to feel the pain. Raising a shard to her wrist she sent her message in a clear line through her flesh.
Tonight it ends.