While sitting alone in the room in the dark, she felt a sense of belongingness as if it knew all of her dark and dirty secrets, her undoings, and all her sins. The walls had heard everything and if they could talk, they would whisper about how dirty she thought she was. How she had cried about those hands that had wronged her, and every night of her muffled cries and those silently falling tears.
Oh, how innocent her heart had been, yet, the shame burned through her insides when it wasn't even her fault. Lackadaisical, she tried to get up from the bed to face the day and oh, how she cursed herself for being so naive. In the dimness, she tried to find solace. Her dainty hands wandered down her body trying to get lost in a maze of pleasure, but only found stains - stains of her past which only served to deepen her sense of shame. Guilt and shame gnawed at her, like relentless beasts devouring her sanity. Each day she carried the weight of her past like a heavy burden, feeling suffocated by the weight of her responsibilities.
Seeking that comfort in scurrilous names and often forgetting her own, each facade became a mask to shield her from the piercing gaze of her own. Until she no longer recognized the face that stared back at her, from the shattered fragments of the broken mirror.