She had no clue how it turned out this way. Well, she knew how it happened, she just didn't understand how she managed to get herself into this situation. She let her fingers glide over the metal studs that lined her collarbone as she looked at herself in the mirror. Metal lined her skin from top to bottom. They made a crown across her forehead, a bridge above her eyebrow, a necklace around her neck, and sleeves down her arms. She had then in her most intimate places, oh yes, she definitely knew how those got there. As her finger traced on in particular right above her cleavage, she felt a desperate desire to rip it out. She wanted so badly to remove them, yet she felt compelled to keep them. Every morning, every night, she was faced with the same dilemma. This was the situation she didn't know how she got in to.
He always said that if she took them out, then he would replace them. He said she would disappoint him if she tried. He claimed she didn't love him when she complained about all the stares she recieved. He said she should be proud to be shown off as his. He said she should relish that everyone knew who she belonged to, just by merely glancing at her.
A tear slid down her cheek as she acknowledged what she was. She was his possession. He did want he wanted with her, and made sure no one else could be a part of her. She was his, and only his. Even now. Even now that he was dead. She felt compelled to keep the piercings. Everyone still knew she was his. Even in death, he still owned her. So, why couldn't she do it? How come some part of her didn't want to take them out? He was gone, he was dead, so why couldn't she do it? This was why she stood in front of her mirror, every morning, every night. She didn't understand how she got herself into this situation. She had no clue how it turned out this way.
This was just a really, really small drabble to simply clear my head a bit. Could be an idea for a chapter length story in the future...who knows.