Revival

The last of the dewdrop on the leaf was all but gone as she opened the mahogany shades to welcome the first few slivers of light into her damp room. Her eyes recoiled, trying to adjust to this sudden onslaught of brightness.

It had been a long time since she had truly felt alive. Her satin pillowcase was still streaked with dry tears and covered with crescent marks.
“Maybe I really should get rid of it” she thought to herself, aimlessly looking around her room.

Her gaze slowly turned towards the mirror, her hands apprehensively caressing her hair. She felt as if she was looking at herself for the very first time.
Her eyes carefully traversed her entire body, soaking everything in. Just a few days ago she would have been repulsed by this very sight. She would have been disgusted by her own existence.

But now the scars on her thighs were showing signs of fading. They had not been cut open in a while.
She absentmindedly rubbed her left forearm, the most painful reminder of her treacherous past.
“A Medusa tattoo would look good on the scar.” She thought to herself.

She went down the stairs to her bare kitchen, each step deliberate, as if something would shatter, if too much was done too soon.
Her eyes yet again scanned the entirety of her living space, as if she was trying to imprint each little corner into her mind.

Once she felt satisfied, a contented sigh escaped her lips. It gave the impression of a heavy weight being lifted from her shoulders.
A vivid evocation of stillness settled around her. Her eyes were sparkling, but not with the agony of her past memories.
She could finally feel like a living, breathing person again.

The cherries in the backyard didn’t remind her of blood anymore.
The robins song didn’t make her cry anymore.
As her bare feet touched the grass outside, she felt the pain slowly taking its leave.
Her eyes looked brighter, her hands no longer shook from unprecedented fears.

Revival.

-Ishita Gupta