She approaches the door and they open like a welcome that they were waiting just for her to step inside. She wants them to know she’s not there for her. She is there in one last attempt to do the right thing. A way to say she’s sorry. Afraid that her safe place will think her efforts were dismissed. This is not the case and she just hopes she will one day know this.
Her heart knows she has already forgiven her and doesn’t even know it yet.
Approaching the second set of doors she wonders if this is all a mistake, or a nightmare, or deserved. In the deepest part of her heart she knows she is here because she is to blame. Could she ever forgive herself for this horrific mistake?!?!
A stranger stands in the door of her room and softly says, come with me. Her tone detached as she faces this situation one too many times.
Question after question, with an impact not equal to intent. With each word she is hearing her own voice for maybe the first time. Is she talking about herself or someone else?
Cotton balls, needles, swabs, gauze, Band-Aids, tests, paper work, in a box with a seal. A collection of damage pieces placed in this box. Paper bags to contain her under clothes. A fresh pair of panties are handed to her with the question do you like blue or would you prefer another. Thinking to her-self, does it really matter when the flames will destroy any proof of their existence. The photo set of snap shots in her head will be plenty souvenir enough of the actual event.
She places her head on the soft pillow and hears the words, it’s almost over. And she knows all too well the struggle has only just begun.
The pain pierces through her body and she finds herself there again in the moment only a day ago. The tears stream down her face and she questions how she will ever be able to say sorry to the one who offered her another solution. The regret is loud but does not offer a distraction from the memories. The pain is unbearable and her screams suck any oxygen left out of the cold bright room.
She can’t breathe and although she knows she doesn’t deserve it, she secretly hopes she will receive support.
6 months to make a tough choice, will she fight or give up again this time. After the deadline it’s all thrown away like nothing happen but stored in her brain.
This is not how she thought she would end this day, with pills upon pills to make things okay.
Knowing she has done something right for once for herself brings little to no comfort because the sad unfortunate truth is that it was a day too late.
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