10/07/2009
[071] Cage
It was late when Kimberly finally got home, and she slid her key into the bronze lock and twisted gently, pushing the oaken door open slowly so as to not disturb whoever was inside. Silently, she moved into the dark hall and placed her holdall on the floor, turning to close the door and lock it. It was sad, she thought, that trapping yourself into your own home brought a sense of inescapability rather than the loving protection it should.
Gathering her bag, she left the lights off and tip-toed down the hall towards the stairs. As she passed the lounge, she could see her mother slumped in the corner of the old leather settee. An empty bottle of liquor was on the floor beside her feet, and she groaned and shifted in the chair. In front of her the television had been left on, and now all that it showed was the crackling static that danced around the dark room like it did on the screen. Creeping in, Kim turned the television off and left, pulling the door almost closed as she did. She hoped she’d not have to encounter her father as she traversed the rest of the house in the dim light. Work had been tiring, and she didn’t have the energy to deal with such a meeting.
When she slowly climbed the stairs and reached the safe haven of her bedroom, she allowed herself a sigh. Even something as small as checking her parents’ bedroom to see if her father was in the house was too much for her tonight, as she was well aware that anything could bring his anger out. Dropping her bag to the floor she walked over to her dresser and sat on the small chair in front of it. The reflection of a tired and weary girl smiled back at her forlornly, and she began to take the clips out of her long brown hair, causing it to fall in ringlets over her face and shoulders. Satisfied that they were all out, she opened the top drawer and produced a small packet of wet wipes. Taking one she begun to remove the layers of foundation and blush off her face. As the day’s makeup was cleaned away, the flowered colours of a bruised eye and cheek were slowly revealed. Tears sprung to her eyes as her hand touched the tender flesh, not yet healed and still sensitive. The cleaning done, she smiled at herself again, a small reassuring smile. It wasn’t effective at cheering her mood.
