And, sadly, it was still there.
All of it. Every morning, she awoke with the hope that the world was gone. Or that reality had changed. Or, at least, that she was someone else. Not living her life. Not living in her hell.
But, it was still there.
And, she hated it. How she hated it. Even though she was up a moment before her alarm clock, she knew her mother would be coming in. To wake her up. To command her. To belittle her.
She closed her eyes.
There was a knock and then the creak of the door. Her mother. She could feel the condescending smile. The mock righteousness.
“Still asleep?”
She opened her eyes. But, said nothing.
“C’mon, you’ve got to get up. We may know you are lazy, but try to keep fooling the rest of the world for as long as you can.
She sighed.
Her mother turned around without even looking and walked out, not even closing the door. At least close the door.
She closed her eyes again.
I wish… I wish… I wish… please… let it all go away.
She opened her eyes.
Damn.
She shifted out of bed, the cold air biting her naked body. Clothes. How horrible a crime to place on all of mankind. Clothes. How ridiculous and immature. Clothes. How commanding. Domineering. But, that is what it seems to all be about, eh?
She grabbed her towel and shuffled to the shower.
Door, locked. Window, closed. Fan, on. Water, on… and warm. She sat on the toilet, letting the sounds soothe her mind. No mother. No patronizing. Nothing but the smooth sounds of her little room. Peace, for a moment.
“Don’t take too long! You’ll be late like you always are.”
She sighed again.
Not even this moment can she truly have to herself. She stepped into the shower. The warm water pounded on her head, down her neck, along her spine, and onto the floor.
Soothing. Relaxing. Safe.
She blinked.
The bathroom had steamed up. Her skin was slightly wrinkled. How long had she been in here? She quickly lathered, shampooed, and jumped out. She ran into her room.
Damn, she was late. Ironic, though. She would have been on time if her mother hadn’t been so patronizing and stressful. Oh well, she was late now and nothing she could do about it.
As she dressed, she stopped for a moment to look at the painting. It was one of the few things she had ever been given that meant anything to her. It was a blue and red swirl, almost tornado like, that reminded her much of a portal to another world. To her, that is what it was. She knew, somewhere behind the painting, there was a gate way out. A way to get away from her mother, her pain, everything. Where she could live. And be happy.
“Come on! You’ve made me late, as well, slug!”
When are you not late? It seems I’m more on time than you, yet I’m the guilty one?
She closed her eyes.
Take me away portal. Take me away.
She opened them.
Of course, her beautiful picture stared back at her. Nothing had changed.
It never did.