Broken Splendor
by adoubletn
Author's Note: Hey y'all, I'm sorry it's been a while since I've posted; school and life getting in the way. But I'm back now, and as a warning, it's not my regular huge does of fluff. It's angsty and a little inconclusive. Please enjoy. Xx
She was curled up under the heavy, familiar dark green and silver comforter of her bed, in the corner of her private room. It was the late afternoon and outside her window, all she could hear was silence and all she could see were the dreary Scottish skies.
If you could see the girl, you would be staring at a statue. She was curled up in fetal position, an image of defeat and of one trying to protect the last vestiges of life within herself, but failing. Miserably. Cold blank eyes stared at the ancient stone wall and numb hands clutched the letter in her hands. A letter that had arrived only that afternoon. A letter that had turned her from a young woman, full of life and very much in love into a shell of her former self. Numb and cold, in shock and unable to absorb what had happen.
Her once impeccable appearance was now marred by tear streaks and wrinkles. She had been crying for hours straight by now. The puddle of tears on her pillow had grown to engulf an area of almost half of the whole pillow, and the vestiges of her eye makeup was streaked down her once beautiful face. Her outfit, once pristine and beautiful, was now tear stained and wrinkled. She'd wiped tears from her eyes with her sleeve throughout the whole day, and the indents on her skirt were made by the grabbing and twisting of the fabric, in adamant disbelief and denial.
Her body, physically, bore the wounds of her pain. Her palms and study bore now fading crescents, made by her nails as she grieved. She was sick to the stomach, in pain and with nausea. She was visibly wilted and tired. The emotional stress she went through showed on her body, terribly, and she was not coping well.
What had happened? What changed her? The answer lay in the now wrinkled and tear stained letter in her hand.
He had broken up with her. Left. Gone. With barely an explanation, and one she could barely understand and process at that.
Her heart and mind could not fathom the sudden change. Her body and psyche had gone into survival mode. She could not think, and the pain she felt now was only foreshadowing the greater pain she would feel later, when it would inevitably sink in.
For now, until a point of closure could be reached, she would stay strong. A smile was easily faked. Laugher easily mimicked. Looking pretty was routine. Only those who could, who would look into her eyes would see her pain.
Beautiful on the outside, while falling further and further away from sanity on the inside.
She was beautiful. She was damaged.
Broken. Broken splendor.
I hope you've enjoyed my first experiment in writing angst.
Thank you.
Xx