“Play your own part” Her mother’s advice always found time to echo from her recesses. Never mind that the woman was dead. Never mind that in context, it was terrible advice but it would come anyway. The first time she woke up from a sudden sleep, her jaw aching, and her shoulders sore, it was difficult to understand why it happened in the first place. Today she wasn’t asking, she had decided- no more sleep. The headaches she woke up with were even more unbearable when it included the added soundtrack of her mother’s voice.
There was a whole journey getting here. The first time it was silent but painful stings from her skin pinched to redness, that one lasted for a while. Then the sting started to burn across both checks. Then dull and sharp pains in her stomach that earnestly took her breath away. Now she wakes up in parts of the house, on the floor! Play your own part? She did—healthy meals, a tidy home, anticipating every situation to be useful. “It doesn’t have to be love, that’s for the movies, no matter what happens, keep playing your own part.” She still doesn’t know what love feels like but if she paid attention the first time, she would recognise hatred from the first pinch. The gleam in his eyes from causing her pain and sometimes the indifference after. She spat out the metallic taste from her mouth. Another tooth. The last one she would lose here.
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