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Broken Glass

Torture through the Glass

By Claudine ChabotPublished 12 months ago Updated 11 months ago 9 min read
2
Broken Glass
Photo by Jack B on Unsplash

Torture Through the Glass

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own. I avoided it at all costs, but the fear alone kept me looking over at this stranger, haunting my existence every day. The layers seemed to go deeper by day, pulling me into the shattered web.

Trekking down the path I had taken a hundred times before, I observed changes. For the longest time, everything had always been the same. I wondered why recently, I was noticing these changes more and more. The beautiful trees had become an entanglement of overgrown prickles, thrusting its thorns. The air was cool, stiff, and as heavy as my shoulders. I could feel rippling around my neck and shoulder blades. The tension confined me. I tried to stretch, reaching for the sky. I longed for the warmth of the sun, the breeze at my fingertips, the comfort from nature.

These days, my arms barely extended, hardly ever leaving my side. My head slightly moved up off my chest, leaving my jowls drooping down. I hunched away from the converging clouds surrounding me. The rays were quickly disappearing behind the darkness. I needed to run. Unsure of the best direction, I tried to hurry myself along, down the winding narrow path. My feet didn’t move as fast as I needed them to. I stepped in a divot, barely rolling my foot, yet, it sent me crashing to the ground. I sat there, with my feet sprawled to my side. Struggling to keep myself up on my arm, as it trembled under the weigh. I glared at the filthy ground, distressed that I could not even keep myself decent. My legs turned a cloudy brown. As the dust settled, I noticed my ripped knee patch. Pressure rose in my cheeks, as I examined the blood trickling down my arm hairs, creating its own path on my forearm. The start of the ooze seeped from a very fine gash, high above the trees of my tattoo. Oh how I wished….

I clenched my teeth, uncertain how I felt; angry, sad, disappointed, scared. I felt stinging, I raised my hand to my eyes and rubbed them. I could not stop anything. My hand fell to my lap, palm up. I wasn’t surprised to see gouges and pebbles protruding from it. I knew pain and that was nothing.

With a clouded vision, I rolled over, pried myself off the ground and stumbled on my feet. I wasn’t even upright, my balance tilted me forward, I grab at the branches full of thorns in desperation. I held on, as best I could as a kept falling, blood dripping through my fingers, I clutched for dear life, as the bank gave way. The rocks rolling under my feet, being carried by the sand like a toboggan ride. Perhaps, if I just let go, it would be a better journey. I could feel my skin ripping with every jolt of the bushes giving way. I now implored mercy, as my feet dangled. I could not see below but I now knew, that this was coming to an end soon.

I could hear laughter. I was saved I promised myself. Someone would rescue me. I yelled for help, but the laughter got louder. My screams sounded like shrieks, and then roars. Nothing helped, I feared the painfully vicious tears falling, as the happiness faded away. Another jolt, crack, jolt, crack, snap; I closed my eyes, and I took a plunge into unconsciousness.

I woke up distraught, feeling like I had been through the ringer. My muscles ached; my head was still spinning. I had to take it easy, one step at a time. I gave my hands a good shake to wake them up, as I tossed my feet off the bed. I seemed unsure if I even had the strength to get up. I heard voices in the other room, they must be worried sick I thought. I pushed myself off the bed and something cold smothered my legs with kisses and drool. Leaping up to greet me was my loyal friend. I petted her head as she wagged her tail eagerly, wanting more than she had had in awhile. I felt bad for not being there for my girl, yet I had no idea how long that might have been.

I looked down at my dishevelled jammies, thinking how nice it would be, to finally have a shower. I slowly walked to my dresser to find some cloths. I sensed a shadow lurking. I shrugged it off as I sneered at the mess strewn across the floor. There were dirty piles of clothes covering almost the entire floor of the 300 Sq Ft bedroom. I was disgusted at the dishes covered with mold barely balanced on top of each other, laying all over. It was dark and smelly, I could not believe what I was hardly seeing. I clearly needed to open the curtains and windows and refresh this room. How could this have gotten so disgusting. It dawned on me I didn’t even know what time of year it was, let alone what time of day.

I hurried out of the room to the bathroom to have a nice long shower. I entered sideways avoiding looking at the window. My head down tilted away from it, I undressed and slipped in the shower. I rubbed away what seemed like years of scum, over and over, till the water turned cold. Reluctant to get out, I slithered the curtain open and there she was, staring at me. I could hardly make her out through the steam. I sensed her fear. I hurried away hoping she had not seen me.

I crept along; I took a big step forward to avoid the pile in front of me. As I laid my foot to the floor, the crackling of the half empty chip bag made me cringe. My heart raced erratically, my shoulders turtled my neck, my hands rose to cover my face. I started sweating. My eyes squeezed shut. I froze unable to move, for what seemed like an eternity. I slowly opened my eyes into the darkness of my hands. What was I so afraid of. With tears streaming down my face I leaned onto the dresser. I so wanted to crawl back into bed, curl up into a cocoon and go back to sleep. I knew I mustn’t. I fought the urge. There was a poisonous tension lurking in front of me. And though I felt capable of running, my legs shuddered under me. My stomach tightening, squeezing upwards, encroaching on my throat, making me gasp for air. My head felt it was in a vice. I conjured up the courage to look up ever so slightly, but every time, as if a ghost walked over my grave, I trembled at the sight of that covered window. And I’d look away. There was no denying she was present; I suffered her pain. I had to help her; but how could I, I was afraid of her. She looked so fragile. I was so strong and indestructible, yet she made me as weak as a broken eggshell. I tightly gripped the sheet, slung over the window, my hands trembling. The sheet slowly feathered its way through my hands.

There she stood, behind her web, reaching out for me. Her bright blue eyes, shone with my reflection surrounded by her bloodshot vessels, pleading me to come help her. Her tears shredded my heart. Ripping at strings in every direction. I reach out to her with both hands as she did the same. I stood there with her, wavering from the cold. The branches agitated the shadows in the windy darkness. I hunted her soul for a solution. My fingers bled scraping at the window trying to open it. I screamed for help, to no avail. All we got was more tears. I fell to my knees and wept.

“Mom! Mom! Mom, you need to get up”! A tremulous voice uttered. “Yes, yes I will, just a few more minutes” I begged. “But Mom!” he pleaded. I snapped angrily, “I said I will”. “Sorry buddy” my lips murmured as the footsteps faded away. I tried turning over, but my back was too stiff. I settled with pulling up my blanket, but no matter how I pulled, something else got exposed. I felt warmth at my back, so I snuggled in closer and fell asleep.

My feet were jerking. I kept moving them away. But it kept poking at my feet, I kicked and immediately felt a wet nose under my foot and heard a yelp. I sat up pleading and begging my baby to come back to me. She crawled hesitantly towards me. I laid back down bringing her in close in front of me, holding her tight, petting her apologetically once again tears spilling down my cheeks. I could not bare to push her away as well, I now knew she had been there, by my side, the whole time. I moved lumps from beneath me, arranging a flatter area. I yanked to cover up realizing all I had was dirty cloths around me. I laid there as my baby licked away my tears. I looked at my glossy reddish brown fingertips, trying to make sense of it all.

I stood up, bravely, approaching the glass. I was angry. I was sad. I was scared. I didn’t know how I felt. But I was determined. I frowned at the girl. Her face melting with disappointment. Dark circles engraved her face, besieged by strands of Ebony. She approached me, I stared at her hand as she untangled and yanked the light from her hair, throwing it to the ground in haste. I noticed her fingertips; I yelled at my foe, “I’m sorry I’m not good enough. I thought I was.” I gasped for air as I continued, I am not that invincible, I am no longer that strong, I simply can’t fix this. I’m Sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry” I kept yelling louder. I felt arms wrap around me. I closed my eyes and listened to the voice. “It’s okay, I got you. We will fix this. Let’s start by a small step. Get dressed I am taking you out”. I was gently nudged away. “Come on” the voice continued gently brushing my hair. “You get changed; I will be right back”. A while later my son returned, “ Yeah that works, I have decided not to change either. Come let’s go.” He helped me slip on my shoes, he put a light jacket on my shoulders. Took my hand and led the way.

I paused at the patio doors. The sun was piercingly bright, but the warming rays comforted me. I inhaled deeply, soaking it all in. “ It’s time Mom, let’s go.” We walked along the edge of the road. The sand let way and my foot slipped. Two strong hands grabbed my shoulders and calmly stated “it’s okay, I got you. We got this!”

psychological
2

About the Creator

Claudine Chabot

I have a desire to understand and share the beauties life has to offer even in the deepest darkest holes. A life recently riddled with obstacles has led me to follow upon my dreams of creating a series of books and writings to help inspire.

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