The House of Broken Walls

At nine forty five on a week night most windows of the homes in this quiet neighborhood are cooled with the shades of nightly shadows and placid moonlight, all but one.

 

“Get out!” Came the enraged demand of an artificially auburn haired young woman.

“But-“ A man’s voice protested from the doorway

“Out!”

“Mary if you’d just-“ He pleaded.

“Don’t EVER call me Mary.” She darkly reminded, “Not Mary, not Lynnie, not Marian- and if I’d just what? Listen? I’m through listening to your garbage. Now go! Get out of here!”

“Honey plea-“

“I said GET OUT!” She screamed, a glass from the kitchen dish strainer flew with precision toward the man and shattered against the almond tinted front door; small fragments like tiny jewels exploded around him. He tensed but remained stationary.

“I’m done with this!” She choked, tears of anger and agony stung the rims of her eyes; but she was too proud to allow them to streak her porcelain face. Not with him looking at her. She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, the air shaking with the raw emotion she displayed so clearly in her voice. “Five years, Eric.” Her voice was quieter now, the volume replaced with malice, “Five years of my LIFE I gave to you.” Fighting back tears with a purse of her unpainted lips the woman rested the underside of a closed fist against her mouth and looked away. A thick heavy silence quickly filled the space between them for a moment, returning her gaze she offered to speak but decided against it. Solemnly she shook her head, “just leave.”

“Marilynn, sweetheart, please-“

“Are you deaf?” Spat the woman, “I told you to leave. Turn around, open the door, and get the hell out.”

He opened his mouth in an attempt at his defense

“Get out!” She wailed in anguish, “I don’t want you here! Leave! Go, on! Go!”

“This isn’t what you want.” He stated flatly, “and you know it.”

“Get out! Get out! GET OUT!!!” She shrieked as more glass found itself hurtled through the air with each repetition of her demand, all finding the fate of its previously fallen brother. Softly she whimpered despite herself, her throat raw and burning with the forcefulness of her scream.

He lingered a moment, the forest of his eyes studying her a moment. Watching. Then on silent feet he left the residence closing the door much harder than needed.

 

As if by the throw of a switch her composure eroded to a fraction of nothing and with knees seemingly made of rubber she found a wall and slowly slid to the cool bleached tiles of the ivory floor. In disbelief the woman found herself staring absently at the ceiling above her, allowing her lids to close a moment she carefully lowered her gaze to the door and the hundred portions of shattered glass that now littered the entryway to her home. A substantial wave of heavy sobs now wracked its way ruthlessly through the small frame of the woman; never in her entirety of her twenty three years had she felt so defeated and utterly powerless. It was in this moment the tears she had fought so desperately to constrain broke through her reserve and fell to streak her face; wrapping her arms tightly around her brought up knees she rested her head against the denim and wept openly.

 

Minutes passed that felt like hours, hours that had felt so much like days she allowed herself to weep there in the cold stillness of her kitchen until finally, bleary eyed and sore, she slowly drew in a chestful of air and sighed heavily. “Come on, Lynna.” She fruitlessly coaxed, “it’s not like the sky has fallen and the world ended. It’s just another page. Another new chapter.” But I loved him. She found her subconscious softly whispering behind her thoughts. Very cautiously she tested her feet, firmly grasping a nearby counter for support; she forcefully smiled softly to herself when she found her limbs sturdy and able. Eyeing the glass Marilynn sighed as pianist’s hands wove their wave through her hair and rested at either side of her slender neck, with a puff of her cheeks she allowed them to fall once more to sides and proceeded down the hall to the broom closet at its end.

 

Broom and dustpan in hand the woman’s icy orbs fixated not on the contents of the still open broom closet but the framed picture on a small coffee table no more than an arm’s length away. Expressionless her eyes studied intensely the smiling faces within the frame, mouth drawn to tight white line, she abandon the broom to retrieve the object. Removing the photograph from the frame as she went once back into the kitchen set fire to the picture and threw it in the sink to burn, and she escaped through the back door and into the early October night. The glass would simply have to wait.

Author's Note

Constructively criticism only, no need to be a douche bag. That aside let me know what you think! If you see something wrong, something that doesn't flow right, or even have an idea for future chapters feel free to let me know :).

Thanks for reading.

Reviews

[Juliet]

I cried. Idk if I'm pure toast at the moment or whether your writing has improved quite a bit, but either way. Fantastic. This strikes such emotion into a reader. It's powerful and very honest. It happens to people all of the time and will keep happening. I told you it would be awesome. Congrats on an excellent first chapter.

[LochnezzMonster]

well, well. I thought everything was great. The dialogue, he emotion. and again the detailing that is so important to get a story made. Her emotions really shone threw but I'm curious about his. I couldn't possibly predict anything for future chapters because I can't quess how this is related to the man she saw in the prologue. But I'm assuming she's going to see him outside. As I read the prologue I thought, they knew eachother in a past life! but, lol, that's only me. Because I love the past life soul mate thing >.< so I'm always up for it.