By Elizabeth Richards
When daybreak comes, I am afraid.
I am afraid because no matter how hard I try, I cannot fathom seeing the damage done in the sunlight.
During the night I steer clear of windows, for that is the only way that I avoid any light that I do not wish for.
In the morning, however, I am defenseless to the light, and I am forced to look at the damage done.
Burnt lungs and scars on what was once unmarred skin. The smell of blood permanently attached to me and permeating the air around me.
I can’t avoid the damage, it’s already been done. But I can avoid acknowledging it. At least until I’m no longer afraid of what comes next.
But I still haven’t reached that place, so here I’ll stay. Drowning in my own blood, the sounds of the fire still roaring in my ears even though it was put out long ago. Waiting for the time to come when I don’t have to suffer through the days anymore.