Mad Woman Rambles

“I am the Shero of my own life. Yeah right. I don’t feel like a Shero,” I said out loud to myself. I closed the front of the medicine cabinet and stared at the grumpy face staring back at me. My normally light blonde hair was darker and matted with old blood. My natural curls were starting to make it a tangled bird’s nest. ‘This is why I straightened it all the time.’ I mumbled to myself.  I sighed and popped another painkiller. It truly sucked being the only human among powerful and indestructible supes.

‘One day I will learn my lesson,’ the thought echoed in the back of my head as I leaned closer to the mirror. Memories of the latest battle ghosted through my mind. Flashes of blood, pain, teeth, claws, and swords caused the tremble I thought I got rid of to start again. My raw fingers gingerly touched my bruised cheek. Another memory of his hand striking me stung worse than the purplish stain on my cheek. My normally violet eyes shone a darker purple as tears began racing to touch my fingers. I looked away, ashamed that I let him get the upper hand. I should have known he would turn on me. It was inevitable.

Love was not in the cards for me. But somehow, he found his way past my walls every time. Our love was fast and dangerous. We went through so many ups and downs, but this was our lowest point. I don’t know why I am still thinking of us as a couple that would reconcile. He was the enemy now, and I felt so betrayed. The physical pain was just a mirror of the emotional turmoil my heart was going through. My balled-up fists came down on the porcelain sink, and I immediately regretted it. I grabbed my bandaged wrist, moving it close to my body to protect it from the actions of my stupid mind.

Another softer memory of his hands on me fluttered up through the chaos. Butterfly kisses and a strong arm engulfing me, protecting me. A light gasp fell from my lips as his presence overwhelmed me. I looked up into the mirror, seeing it unfold before me. Us tangled in the sheets. The morning sunlight filtering through the shades. My head on his chest. His heartbeat syncing with my own. We were pleasantly exhausted from our night of lovemaking. It was a stolen moment before the worlds collided and ripped us apart. The tears finally broke the surface of my eyes and streamed down my face.

“Stop,” I sobbed, reaching out to the mirror. The memory shattered just like my heart. I slapped my bandaged hand against the reflection of the broken woman who stared back at me. My body heaved up and down as a scream of anguish ripped from my throat. “Fuck you!!!” I shouted as my reality came crashing down around me. Shero, my ass.

Slumping against the claw-foot tub, I hissed as my cracked ribs screamed out in protest. I lifted my shirt to see that the bandages were still intact and not seeping blood. The battle was too real for me. I wasn’t a warrior. I didn’t have super speed, strength, or some unearthly ability to compete. I had a sword, sur,e and I took a bunch of those bastards out. But he had no trouble striking me down and allowing his minions to beat me to a pulp.

Yet another memory popped into my head. He stood over me, all regal and majestic. He even caressed my face, smearing the blood of the fallen on my cheek. I had hoped he wasn’t who they said he had become. His eyes held love in them when he looked at me. Then they clouded over, and it was like it wasn’t him at all. Then his hand struck me so hard I flew back, off my feet, and slamming into that huge oak tree. Then the minions were on me. Beating and kicking me. One minute I felt like an Amazonian. Next, I was reminded of my lot in life. Human. Unremarkable. I watched him walk away from me as I lay broken and bloody. Even then, my heart wouldn’t let me hate him. My mind trying to convince me I saw conflict in his eyes before he turned away. In that moment, I wanted to die.

If it hadn’t been for Cali, I don’t think I would have made it. I would have died in that moment, and Jona would not have cared. When he walked away, he sealed my fate and the fate of our relationship. I looked up at the note that was on the silver-back mirror. ‘Be the Shero in your own life!’ it read, mocking me as I curled up on the bathmat on the floor. I can’t keep doing this.

 ‘Some Shero I turned out to be.’