《It's called being human》Burnt In Memory
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Sharp ringing in his ears followed by a sickness deep in his gut woke him once more. He pushed himself up from the floor and stammered to his feet, stumbling into the nearby dresser, jostling the perfumes and dishes there. "wha-" his speech cut short by the wince from the pain in his jaw, he turned and noticed the mirror atop the dresser and turned to see what was not his own. A womans face sat where his own should rest, her body taking the space his own once called home, he....she looked around and at her own body in disbelief before returning to the mirror. Her jaw was broken badly, the bone beneath left bare and the skin a dark purple radiating around the white bone. Painful to look at, excrutiating to touch, the thought of speech sent chills down her spine penetrating to his soul. Words became a forgotten notion. "Godamn it!"; roared a barotone voice from down the hall to her right, hesitantly she crept through the doorway and down the hall following the sound of clatter and destruction, carried forward as much by curiosity as fear. What greeted her was the sight of a tall portly man who was bent over and rummaging through the closet, haphazardly throwing things here or there with no regard to what befell the things or what they hit. "Where did you put it, you fucking bitch!" reverberated from the nearly empty closet back at her, she glanced around the room, a white curtain framed the window nearest the huddled over behemoth. Across from it lay the bed, made and orderly as can be topped with its white cotton spread bordered with brown nearing the head of the bed and mix of tan, brown and white pillows accenting it. A nightstand to the right carried on it a wrought iron lamp with a tan shade, the floor was covered in a clean tan carpet, her gaze scanned over it and the things strewn about, their life in objects. The first time they met as juniors in high school and the fierce love that blossomed lay captured in his letterman jacket strewn on the arm chair. The happiness frozen in their wedding pictures that now lay discarded and fanned out across the carpet. All their life in possessions but none of it held the real story, just the perfect image frozen in beautiful frame. It was the vanity across from her, to his left that draw her eye though, the image in it rather. The image of a young woman, meek and gentle in every meaning, betrayed by her jaw and the tears on her clothes for the truth. The perfect image of it all, shattered and laid bare was her suffering in painful clarity. She didnt know when he gave up on looking in the closet, she didnt even hear his footsteps as he strode to her, she only knew his hands when they pressed her against the wall, his face red with anger as he yelled at her. The words never reached her though, maybe it was the concussion, maybe it was the fear no matterwhat it was, it only angered him. He put his hand on her face, his thumb pressing against her jaw as she cried in pain, he tossed her aside roughly and she stumbled to the ground. Where his hand failed his boot would succeed he thought as he kicked her while she lay there, protecting her jaw. "Where. Is. It" his words punctuated with each kick, she looked around in a panic and pointed at the untouched bottom drawer of the dresser. He turned and strode to the vanity dresser to inspect, pain surged through her jaw and throbbed at her torso stinging at the cracked ribs. Her breathe growing more shallow with each inhale until it could barely have been said to be there at all, her hands grew cold and all that could escape her all that could leave that shattered body were her tears streaming onto the once spotless carpet. The man rose again and slaked his thirst from the flask gripped tightly in his hateful hands, no doubt pilfered from the drawer. He let his satisfaction be known after a long chug with a content sigh and walked back over to her " ya see, that wasnt that bad, its all i wanted now" he nudged her with his boot in the ribs " get up, start on the food and we can have a nice dinner." She never responded though, not to his words, nor to his prods and kicks, never are there enough pleas or cries as can wake the dead and the dying. Realization clicked in his mind and panic caught in his throat, how had he let this happen. He never meant, he never thought, but it was real, too real and too far to ever come back. His mind raced as he wondered what he did to bring it to this point, how had it started? A sternful command here, a warning there, at what point did it turn to blows. How had he let his love for her become a fear in her,she had to be afraid. Terrified as she lay there, she was everything he wanted and loved and now she cowered at his feet choking on empty breathes. He was on his knees shaking her, begging her to wake up with tears in his eyes "im so sorry baby, please just wake up, please" his words were heard but he was never to hear another of hers again. It was then the pacing began and the mania set itself anew, this time by grief and guilt both powerful, both strong enough to shatter any sanity, mortal or not. Beset by these demons a thought was born and into hazard action it grew. Only moments after he had ran from the room smoke could be smelt through the whole house and seen in most, he returned with his face covered in soot and kneeled beside her to cradle her in his arms. His hands that reaked of gasoline stroked her face while his tears fell into her hair, he spoke but nothing coherent left his lips save for " im sorry, im so so sorry." She couldnt see when he drew his service pistol, she couldnt see when he raised it to is head, she only heard his final last time saying " im sorry, itll never happen again" and the bang that came after. Abandoned as she was, such as in her marriage which burned as brightly as the flame, both consuming, both in stages. First came the signs, the anger and possession so well meaning she told herself, so caring -the smell of smoke.
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Then came fights, the burning flame consuming their love and their lives, discussions turning to arguments, screaming leading to fists, his shame turning to anger and finally loss just as the fire spreading through their house did overtake every photo and memory leaving nothing but ash in its wake so did his love, his anger, his shame.
Finally it came to this, alone just as she was in her marriage, caged on all sides by consuming rage but in this horrific ending one solace could be found. Freedom. Finally freedom.
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