Her bruised and swollen eyes were aching heavily from the dusky glow that glared above her head. Try as she might, she could not open her eyes, her eyelids were as heavy as lead. She could still notice her love, even though he wasn’t there. He was so beautiful; the pile of people’s words told her she was crazy. His camouflaged bitterness meant only sweetness in her mind.
The brisk air echoed multiple footsteps, like a rapid pulse. She clutched onto her baby-pink acrylic coat, edged with fake fur and wrapped it around her drawn skeleton. Goosebumps raced like waves over her skin as her lips crumbled with skin and blood. Judgemental eyes stabbed her like arrows as they hastily shifted past her. It was peak hour, late Saturday night. Sounds of the forthcoming train and drunken, arrogant juveniles were blaring in her ears. The train had squealed to a halt and it was time for her board. Without paying, she sat down in the quiet carriage, across from a man who was simply dressed and reading the newspaper. She leant forward, assertively, “Scuse’ me, do you know where I get off to go to Errol Street? I’m lost.” The man peered up from the top of his spectacles and adjusted his face. “No,” he calmly snapped. She blankly looked around and wondered how long it would be before her love started to worry about where she was. He had sold her cell phone as he desperately needed money to fix the large leak in the ceiling of the flat. A familiar place close to home was displayed in the graffitied window and she swiftly stepped off the train. Like a hawk, the man with the newspaper subtly scoped her departure and continued reading the news of the day.
As she anxiously made her way down the cracked pathways, her footsteps crunched and she flicked her eyes from left to right. She was afraid of the dark. The eerie glow of the full moon provided only subtle illumination of her surroundings. Frenetically, she arrived at the mangy doormat before the front door, where her ardent love sat inside and sporadically provided his warmth.
Struggling to keep his eyes open, he remained hunched on the ripped lounge with his hands planted on his knees. He heard the door creak, and immediately, like a predator, directed his impudent visage toward her. “Where the f*** have you been? Get ‘ere!” He soared upward and grasped her head of hair, throwing her fragile scrawniness to the ground. Her knees thumped on the stained vinyl, sending shoots of sharp agony down her legs. But he wasn’t finished yet; he coldly booted her in the stomach, ripping it apart, where she was already enduring cramps from her monthly menstruation. Groaning, she curled her body like a dead spider.
The rage remained on his face until the spasms of her muscles and pain evoked his regret. Promptly, he crouched down and engulfed her with his temporary kindness. Although the extreme aches still prevailed in her limbs she could feel the warmth on her broken skin, spreading through her veins. He was like a completely different person, as was she, when she in the pure embrace of her affectionate love.
As the sun peeked through the weathered curtains of the bare lounge room, it was almost dawn and the two had fallen asleep next to each other. The morning air, reeking of stale cigarettes, was damp, causing the surfaces of the few furnishings to chill. They didn’t wake up until early afternoon and when they did, their affectionate ‘good morning’ started with patterned physical fights that would result into sorrow and compassion. The same apologetic method, repetitively approached, would never get old to her.
As the afternoon sun sank slowly, she knew she would have to draw away from her love and go to work; she was already running late and knew she would definitely be in strife, if she didn’t struggle for her best efforts. She was a quality tester of retail businesses and had at least five different stores to embark on. She was restricted for time as the local retail shops closed at five
