there's no place I can be since I found serenity


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"п'ю щастя", Є.Гапчинська
marulka
(Wrote it for the Future Learn online course Start Writing Fiction)

After his first punch she froze. Bright, hot blood was pouring from her nose on the floor, on her t-shirt, but she didn’t care. He was saying something, but she couldn’t hear anything through the sound of shattered glass. It puzzled her. Nothing was broken, so where was it coming from? Later, after many years she realized that it was the sound of her shattered childhood – bloody and broken, in pieces, on the floor, just by her feet. She put on her only bathrobe – white with bright yellow suns - and went to the bathroom. Red blood looked almost pretty in the white sink. He entered after her – closed the door, didn’t let her leave, tried to hug her from behind, tried to explain something. She wasn’t listening – this time by choice. The water was dissolving thick red drops and after some time the ceramics were as clean, as new. As nothing ever happened…

Second time he hit her on the back. She never expected this, and maybe that’s why she wasn’t crying. Instead she was growling – loudly, like a wounded bear, trying to grab at least something to hold on to. He tried to explain something once again, said, that it was her fault, that even her voice annoys her, that she should be kinder and never shout at people. She didn’t remember what else – she was distracted by the print on the fluffy blanket she grabbed before…

Twenty years later she was still walking around with blood dripping from her nose, clutching to her back, not able to breath.  What really bothered her was that no one was noticing this…

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