The Silent Fight

The alluring voice of silence gently creeps into her exhausted mind. She hears the constant rhythm with which the silence feverishly knocks on her brain. Unwilling to show any sign of resistance, she waits for the silence to hammer its way through her drained veins. Soon her body will be infested. Being keenly aware of this, she still doesn’t want to fight. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never. She won’t tell. She won’t dare. She will be silent.

She looks out of the window and sees life aimlessly rushing towards its inevitable end. The inevitable silence! Will it be just the same? Will it be that deafening? Will it hurt that much? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. She is silent.

She feebly leans against the wall. Her lifeless eyes reflect emptiness, and nothing else. A sterile tear slowly carves down its way on her white cheek. The corner of her lips involuntarily twitches. The unbearable weight of her red lipstick hardens her mouth. It causes her so much pain. Unwillingly, she wipes the lipstick off with the back of her hand. Now the lower half of her right cheek is red too. She looks down at her hand and then starts fretfully rubbing it against her thigh. It hurts, but she can’t feel. She can’t move. She can’t speak. She is still silent.

She looks at the door. It is wide open. Who would chose to paint it red? She did and she liked it. A lot! The colour of blood and fire! And now it’s the colour of silence. The red silence! It wickedly laughs at her. Its quiet arrogance intensifies the noise reverberating in every single pore of her skin. Now she’s the laughing stock of a door! It knows, it does, her entire life depends on it. Powerlessly, she falls on her knees. If only the noise would stop! If only the door would shut up! If only she would speak up! But she is silent.

She lies on the floor. It is cold and unwelcoming. She closes her eyes and sees the red infinity of the nightmarish silence ahead. She can definitely hear the silent thud of broken glass, broken dreams, broken wings. The tear has frozen somewhere close to the chin. It won’t fall as if it wants to stay there forever. She shudders. She has lost control over her body. Has she ever been in control of anything? Has she ever heard the silence coming? Has she ever been understood? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t want to know. She is just silent.

Unforgiven she is left to suffer silently in the vast eternity of grief and sorrow. She slowly lifts her hand to close her eyes. She wants them closed but they won’t close. They stubbornly want to see the inevitable end. The inevitable silence! The hand won’t also listen. She has been betrayed by her own body, soul, and spirit. She’s deceived. She’s forgotten. She is simply silent.

And nothing else! She only sees the red door closing behind him!

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