A Girl with a Broken Smile

An endless void, trapped between the darkened thoughts of where and how. Within this void, Abigail’s life no longer existed. Her cries of help have gone unheard. She spent most of life unknown to those around her. She was drowning in the wasteland of her mind. Negative empowered words were enraged on her ghostlike flesh. “Weird.” “Boring.” “Ugly.” “Fat.” “Flawed.” “Crass.” Inadequate.” Words that have been said to her so many times, they now identify her.

Each day she lives with a fake smile. She knew if she were to truly express herself, she would see nothing by resentment. She sat alone in her room every night; a place where she felt most comfortable. She rubbed the scarring on her wrist from when she allowed the box cutter to slice through her veins. Her own mother didn’t even notice. Their handmaiden Bethany, was the one who found her passed out in a puddle of her own blood. Bethany was the reason that Abigail remained alive; at least alive in her physical form.

Abigail woke from a restless night. She heard the howling of the wind outside her bedroom window. It sounded angry as it whistled around the streets. She was awake before the sun, but couldn’t bring herself to go back to sleep. She slid herself out of bed and made her way across the room and to her mirror.

The mirror has always been her worst enemy. Everytime she looked into it, the mirror would show her a stranger in return. A stranger filled with flaws and despair. A stranger provides nothing but a broken smile in return. Her skin hasn’t been touched by the sun in days. Her hair, with chestnut brown curls, has gone unbrushed and was filled with knots. Her ocean eyes remained lifeless and showed no signs of emotions.

She slipped on an old pair of jeans and partly torn, overly big, T-shirt. It was the only thing she felt comfortable wearing lately. She knew her mother would protest against her style choice, as she often did. It didn’t fit in with her standard image. Honestly, it was the only thing her mother ever cared about. Public image was very important to her and Abigail knew that her mother only had her as a publicity stunt. Abigail’s father wanted to win a chair in the congress, so he made himself out to be this big family man to gain votes.

Their physique was all a lie. She never understood why her mother remained married to him. Fighting was the only language they knew. Their marriage was filled with hatred. Anger was the only emotion the household had. Of course in front of the press and townspeople they acted as a loving couple. However, behind closed doors the situation turns dark.

Abigail never had a loving relationship with her parents, but it was her father that she despised the most. He makes himself appear to be this amazing man; but he only does it to gain popularity and to collect votes. He never cared for the family and both Abigail and her mother knew it.

Once the cameras turn off and he’s done perfecting his public image, he would drink himself into a coma. It would drive her mother crazy and it would leave them fighting for most of the night. The fights always landed on him growing bold enough to lay his hands on her.

Abigail could usually hear the blow that knocks her mother to the ground. They would both go silent for the rest of the night. Despite the physical abuse of her father, her mother was just as bad with her emotional abuse. Her words would cut Abigail deeper than any box cutter. Her words are the reason Abigail no longer exists.

Abigail’s tired expression in the mirror fades as she slips deeper into the void. The first day of school had snuck around the corner and the thought of being seen by the public made her sick.

A faint whisper within her mind came to her as she mustered up enough courage to voyage out of her room.

“Stay with us.” The voice was harsh and came to her using her own voice. It brought chills to Abigail’s spine yet something about the presence was comforting and wrapped Nora’s body in a cocoon of emotions and vulnerability. “Don’t leave.” The voice only grew louder and harsher; the grip of the void grew more intense and Abigail found it difficult to escape it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to escape it.

She didn’t say anything in response; she didn’t feel the need to. She knew that the void could feel and hear everything she felt and thought. It was her captor, her prison and in some ways, it was her sanctuary.

Abigail heard her bedroom door creaking open, pulling her a little bit out of her mind. The lighting of the hallway invaded her eyes and she had to squint to adjust them. Bethany stood in her small physical form; her eyes wary. She looked as though she hadn't slept in days; she appeared to be much older in the eyes of Abigail. She wore a black dress and was hesitant at entering the room. After a long pause, she finally gained the courage to enter the room.

She never minded Bethany’s presence. She felt that Bethany was the only one who truly cared for her. Bethany heard her and saw her. She saved Abigail in more ways than she knew.

“She never cared for you…” the void whispered, sending a surge of anger through her veins. She dismissed the lies that the void was feeding her but she knew that it would eventually win again. “You were just a job to her. She’s better off without you. Stay with us Abigail.”

It took everything she had not to give in. She could feel the power and the darkness enclosing around her, imprisoning her. The tightened grip made it impossible to escape. She was tired of fighting, she was tired of trying, she wanted to rest.

Bethany sat at the edge of Abigail’s bed and stared at the glass on the bedside table. There was a little bit of water left inside and a light pink lipstick stain at the rim. Beside the water was a small pill bottle, empty.

She watched as tears filled Bethany’s eyes. She felt no emotions; she had no words to comfort Bethany. Bethany’s fingers were trembling as she touched the glass. Her hands fell to her sides in defeat and her shoulders slumped over in what appeared to be pain. The cry that came from her mouth was something Abigail didn’t recognize.

“I’m so sorry…” Bethany sobbed. “I wish I could have saved you again.” She cried into her hands. Abigail knew there was nothing she could do to provide her some kind of light. She had no more light to give.

All she knew and understood was the void. It will never truly go away; it will consume her until there is nothing left.

Bethany stood; she was weak and could no longer contain her structure. She placed a small photo on her bed. With a short pause she left the room, leaving nothing but sorrow in her place.

Abigail picked up the photo and saw the same stranger that mirror showed her. Someone she hardly recognized. Someone she never truly knew.

The stranger staring back at her, was a girl with a broken smile.