She stared at the image before her. A fifty year old grotesque image of her former self. The dark deep eyes stared back, arousing a deep feeling of mockery, betrayal-a cynical image of a woman plundered off her existence. The image gnarled at her in contempt. It spat at her and sneered.
A sudden eerie loneliness crept through her, eventually becoming a throbbing. She tightened her jaw in resilience and spun around, knocking down her make-up kit to the floor. It fell and the paint stained the white furry carpet.
The image on the mirror stuck in her mind like a ghostly dream.
“I need my life back,you old witch! You mean whore!”
“How dare you! You miserable wretched scum! After all the sacrifices!”
“Give back my life, earn it back! its not too late.”
The altercation seemed to split her head. She rushed to her bedroom and collapsed on the Victorian bed, burying her head deep in the pillows.
It was late into the night. The tranquility in her mansion was anything but serene. It was ghastly, a deep hollow dark cave.Daunting. She could feel the flaps of the bats and the tendrilous snare of the cobwebs deep in this cave. She wanted to scream. Then the image of Mathew danced across her face. His black craggy face a mask of emotions.
She gasped and felt a tear burn behind her eyeballs. She didn’t remember when she last called that name, but tonight it escaped her lips without even noticing. It could never be this cruel. Her conscience, a devil she had learnt to ignore for decades, sprang back to life with all the pent up vehemence.
Oh God Almighty!
She threw herself out of the bedroom and rushed to the mini bar in her parlor. Her darling of ages. Swig! She took down in one huge swallow. Her eyes smarted, her teeth clenched. A warm feeling cheered through her blood. How comforting. She threw her head backwards again and let the scotch gurgle down her throat. A rapturous embrace. One more and she fell on the couch laughing.A long hollow raucous laugh that shook her ribs and ended in gasps.
Outside the wind crackled through the dry twigs in the garden behind. The small mound of soil in the graveyard stood in silence. Just the way he lived.
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