An unidentified body, lies stiff on the cold ground. It lays, still amidst the darkness of the alley’s filthy secrets.
“My beautiful daughter. You deserve better,” the sound of her father’s voice awakens her battered mind to her painful reality. She opens her bruised eye…slowly as she attempts to regain clear vision.
Her hair disheveled, clothes misplaced, and her body violated. Screams of pain and help held captive by the shiny rope around her neck. Once a symbol of love, now a symbol of betrayal and abuse. The mighty weight of the necklace weakens her body, it silences her voice and strangles her throat. With brute force, it keeps her down… subdued.
She attempts to lift herself and regain her footing… But the force of the shiny shackle keeps her down. Again, she forcefully attempts to separate herself from the shackle. She pulls, she tugs and cries in agony. The rope separates the flesh from her throat- it eventually snaps.
The snap gives life to her silenced voice. Her potent screams of pain, agony and hurt so powerful, it shatters glass windows and brings forth the strength and courage to lift herself from the unforgiving ground. Her inner soul reminiscent of the broken shattered glass yet still intact, enough to be broken.
A beautiful bright light peering out from the alley’s darkness, catches her attention. It calls her and she obeys it. Caught between the darkness of the past and the prospect of new hope, forward she moves. Nothing good comes from the darkness’ secrets, the warmth of the light calls her near.
She passes through a valley of thorns. The thorns painfully and forcefully subdue her into submission. She walks, “You must’ve asked for it,” and falls.
“What were YOU wearing?” pricked another thorn. Repetitively, subdued, she lifts herself and continues to walk. With every step towards the light, each prick becomes more vicious and malicious in judgement.
“YOU must have provoked him,” her eyes firmly fixated on the light, unfazed by the harsh prickling thorns. She walks into closer to the bright light.
With the slow dawning of the sun, her damaged face is healed by it’s gentle light. She gazes up, her eyes meets the sun, it’s healing light almost within her grip. She slowly heads towards the healing sun. Exhaustion overtakes her and her legs cave in.
“Well done, my girl. You can rest now,” echoed her father’s loving voice in her tired mind. She can’t walk further.
A sudden gush of light hits her vision, foreign hands on both sides pulls her up in support. Her gaze met by two women. One, with a deep scar beneath her eye, another with a scar beneath her lip. Her eyes fixated on the beauty of their scars, it glittered with courage, and glistened with pain. There is beauty in overcoming difficulty.
“What a beautiful scar,” said the women as she pointed to the glitter scar on her neck. The light that she sought lied within the beauty of her own scar by helping others. This was her story, it was part of her. The trio shared a long hug, then aided one another towards the path of the rejuvenation, new hope. The path on the trail of healing towards the glittering sun.