Desolate

I walk out of the castle hours later. My body is numb. Someone must have sent me home. So I must have finished my chores. It wasn't until I went to open the door that I realized I was still gripping a broom in my right hand, too tightly. Sprinters must have been poking my skin for hours. I couldn't feel them. I threw the broom down the stairs. If anyone from the tavern below heard no one bothered to check on us- me. I looked at my hand. Pin pricks of blood on them. There had been blood on them earlier today. I must have gotten the door open because I was in bathroom running my hand under to hot water. Did I even turn the cold handle? I could feel the heat, and pain now, but I kept scrubbing. I was crying. I moved to run the bath. Dunking my hands in. My breathing was heavy. In my reflection my blue hair was messy, and my red eyes had gone wide. I looked like a woman who lost her mind. Felt like one too. I starting screaming then. Angered, pained, despair filled sounds. A coffee table flew across the room, a couch was flipped, those vases of flowers she loved so much destroyed. I had my father's strength. Until I exhausted myself. I crumpled to the floor, and curled in on myself. As broken as the things around me. My one constant gone. I was alone.