The Mirror - A Narrative Writing

As soon as I saw my mom walk out of my line of vision, I heaved a long breath, I turned over to my side from where I was lying and clutched my stomach. The pain slowly consumed me. taking over every inch of me until I was no longer conscious. I woke up a few hours later and finally took in my surroundings. Earlier, I was too drunk on pain to notice it, but now, I see it. The shattered glass bottles on the floor, my own blood from where I fell unconscious, and another piece of my hope broken. I got up tentatively and started picking up the broken glass, but failed to put the broken pieces of myself together. I walk over to the mirror and stare at myself. I don’t recognize her anymore. I let my gaze travel over my reflection, lingering over the area where I could see a bruise forming. I pick up my foundation and start applying a heavy coat, then apply a layer of concealer over it. Once I was sure the bruise was concealed, I walked away from the mirror. But I don't get too far. I stopped and stared back at myself. Was I really going to let her win again? Was she ever going to take up her role as my mother? Will she ever stop abusing me? I pick up my makeup remover and start removing the things that have only encouraged my abuser for years now. I wasn't willing to give her the upper hand. Not anymore. I removed the makeup and looked back at my reflection. Really looked at me. I saw beneath the bruises and saw a young girl whose innocence was taken at a young age. I refuse to live in fear any longer. Do not hide your abuse, it will only encourage the abuser.

- Estrella