Over.

There was a silence as she sat facing the wall. Her knuckles stained with blood that soaked the bandage. The fifth bandage that week. She continued punching the wall in anger, the wood was starting to show signs of weakness. Her continuous attempts to break the wall in front of her were not indications of strength, instead a reminder of her weakness. A reminder of a lost battle, a reminder of more than material loss and more than that a reminder of how she let it all take control over her.

She sat, admitting defeat for today. She sat and watched the blood trickle from her knuckles onto her knees and was lost in her thoughts, numb to the pain. Silently she let the world revolve around her, spinning rapidly as she lived in slow motion. Every second was accounted for, like an hour instead. She was lost in so many different ways. The silence was deafening.

In a split second they knew that this was all going to be over soon. She hung her head and she cried for the first time. She screamed in agony, clutching her bleeding knuckles, she cried and cried. She cried until there were no more tears to cry. She cried until she thought the pain was gone. One of them went inside and lay next to her, holding her as she gasped for air in between sobs. Then, it was over.

It was over.

She sat soaked in her tears.

Praying.

Praying that the hurting was over too.

Ave Maria.