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Broken Promises


Broken Promises
Nabiyah Saddique

The gleaming mirror smashed into ten pieces. The mirror that once held all the splendours of the world is now crushed. Plates, glasses and knives remain traumatised on it. On the far side of the room sits a wooden table that has been broken into two; cracked straight through the middle. Above the table is the window which has four cracks. The window that looks out towards the perfectly mowed lawn.

I sit on the ground opposite the wooden table. I look down at my hands. I open my palms and observe the red blotches. Sticky, slimy blood trails down my arms. My knee is red, bloody and sore. My body resembles a Picasso painting using all shades of blue, red, yellow and green. I stare at all the mess I have made.

I cannot feel anything. Frozen in the corner of a room. Numb to the core, if only for an instant. A sudden burst of tears travels down my cheeks.

My eyes wander to the photo frame that has also been victim to the trauma. I pick it up and turn it around. We fit perfectly like two pieces of a jigsaw. I was tucked under the crook of his arm. Instead of looking towards the camera, we were lost in each other’s eyes, smiling. Lost in the abyss of each other. His hand gently placed on my right cheek as he looked at me with pure adoration. My gaze was filled with innocence and immense love for the man holding me.

That day was filled with rays of sunshine. Hues of orange, red and yellow covered the sky like a blanket of fire just waiting to be extinguished by the gloomy grey clouds. I walked down the gravelly path towards my home. He was standing, waiting for me to reach him at the end of the path. I rushed towards him and my hands were placed between his and everything around us ceased to exist.

Darkness slowly descends upon the room. Even the light from the sky is leaving me to bathe in darkness. The front door slams open against the wall. Loud footsteps make their way towards where I am sitting.

He stands before me, looking down at me. Regret clouds his eyes as tears roll down his cheeks as he stares at the mess he has made. All the mess scattered in pieces, so many pieces. I flinch as he reaches out to hold my hand. My hand curls around his, fitting perfectly.

‘I’m so sorry, so sorry.’

‘It’s okay.’

Until the next time.


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