She stares into the mirror.
What can she see?
An array of colors distort her once fair complexion.
Black's, blues and purples fading into yellows.
The physical efforts left behind by an enraged monster.
but that is not the reason why the tears stain her cheeks,
or the reason her sad hollow laugh bounces back off the mirror
as she once again has to apply thick coverage makeup to decieve others.
She laughs because for the first time in two years
she knows she will be ok. There is no going back now,
but she wouldn't want to anyway.
With a clean slate, a clean face
she remembers his last expression.
But as he died right in front of her
so did her laughter die.
The comforting thought that she would
never again be hurt by him vanishes quickly
as every time she closes her eyes at night she
would see, hear and feel his evil presence
haunting her, taunting her, mocking her pathetic
attempt to rid him. And as she lies in the dark, in her new bed,
her last bed
In the last room, she will ever live in again
Her personal prison