Waking Up [2]

The sun hits my face like a wrecking ball. It takes a moment to open my eyes against the blindness. It takes another moment before I remember why the shade is open to begin with. It takes no time at all to feel the pain come crashing back. The sunlight mocks my sorrow. Wrecking ball. I close my eyes again - willing it all to go away - but, of course, it doesn't. It never does. I peek at the window again. Still sunny. Wrecking ball. I slam my hand down at the windowsill, landing on my phone. I claw at it, preparing to chuck it across the room, before I stop. I have a text message. I flip open the phone, the sun glares off the screen. Wrecking ball. I shift and the blanket slides farther down. It exposes my hips, and the scrappy black lace that wraps so neatly around them, to the harsh sunlight. Wrecking ball. But I flip open the phone and start to read.

It's from you.

The stupid sun seems to dim, and I can see so much more clearly. You were hurting too, you could feel that agony. The thought of you in pain makes me want to tear out at the source with teeth and claws. Angels. Shouldn't. Cry. Though I long to feel the blood of your adversaries dripping down my chin, I know that it isn't a foe we can truly face. Fate never was very kind.

Despite it all, I feel a grin slowly rip its way across my face - cracking through the tear stains of last night. I clutch your hoodie around me, the zipper has grown warm through the night. Breathe In, Exhale. No more tears. Last night is over. The sun can shine all it wants, but a new night will come. A night with a brilliant, shining moon, and angels soaring. I can be stronger than the wrecking ball. I will be stronger.

What wrecking ball?