I curl up in the corner of the shower. Unknown emotions rise steeply on my mind beneath the splashing warmth of my body. I watch the water flow to the shower drain; it stains with impurities. I scrub my skin clean, trying to obliterate several layers of it. But, that one layer — the way he bruised me with his vicious grasp, determined but unsuccessful to make me his own — has branded me for life.
In my mind, shadows coexist with memories, those of which are chaotic like mathematical disciplines no one in their standard mind can calculate or even approach.
At the worst of times, I find myself arbitrating my existence. Like a calculator expressing the result of a division by zero.
© 2013 Elisa Marie Hopkins. All Rights Reserved.