Brick by broken brick, she tried to build a home again, to house her fragile heart.
She’d built it many times before, but each time the walls would crumble under the pressure of broken promises and empty lies, leaving behind nothing but broken bricks in it’s wake.
At first her walls had been strong and sturdy, weatherproofed to conquer any storm and virtually impenetrable.
But, over time, the cracks began to show.
Damp would make it’s way up her walls in the dead of night and leaks would appear out of the blue.
Before long her foundations were shaky and her walls began to crumble under the weight of her heavy heart.
So she’d start again, promising herself that this time she’d be stronger, this time her walls would be tall and strong and no man would be able to break them down.
After all, she thought, I deserve more than damp walls, forced abortions and playing second fiddle to another man’s wife.
But again, the walls began to crumble and the leaks began to spring.
She thought she’d been stronger this time, thought she’d been wise, but somehow everything had changed so suddenly.
She’d been so happy at first, but now all she was left with was heartache, tears and a few broken bones.
It took every ounce of strength she had to build those walls again.
She worked tirelessly, brick by broken brick. Each one a reminder of every broken bone, every scar, every forced abortion, every heartache and every careless tear.
She worked until her fingers bled and her heart ached.
Until finally, she had rebuilt what was broken and her heart began to heal again.
This time, this time she promised, would be different.