Phoenix put her hands on the sink. She dropped her head low and groaned in pain. Her ribs were hurting, her knuckles were bruised. Her face was puffy, and mascara was running down her cheeks. Her hair was disheveled, and blood was splattered on her face, her knuckles, her shirt. She assessed the injuries, a broken rib here, bruises on her chest and legs. She filed a nail, broke another, lost a shoe, and tore her dress apart. Her blue eyes averted from her hands to her face. She was a mess. a big mess, but the sight made her laugh. She ran her hand through her hair and slipped on the bathroom floor. A sad chuckle escaped her lips, and she slowly dragged herself to the bathtub. She leaned her back against it and put her arms on her lap. What a pathetic little life!
The honey-haired woman then yanked her head back and took a deep breath. What the hell was she doing? Why did she decide to throw herself into a fight that night? Another fight, another string of bruises and broken bones, another rush of adrenaline and endorphins. It made her happy...It made her feel ashamed, too. Who did that? Who went looking for a fight because it made them feel better? Sickos.. That's who... Sickos like her. Phoenix wanted to be punished. She might not be able to let them kill her; she was more than willing to take a beating. In her mind, she justified it as being merciful. She gave her opponents a head start so the fight would last longer. The truth was elsewhere. Nix let them hit her. She made herself vulnerable enough for them to be able to ruin her face and hurt her body like that. She let them... She did!
With each punch, she felt the satisfaction of punishment. She used these people as a way to enact her self-hatred on herself, a way to hurt her like she could not. Pathetic! Did she hate herself that much? Did she even love herself? Questions she had never truly asked herself. Was there anything to love about her? Phoenix sucked at her bottom lip and slowly pulled her legs up. Her feet lay flat on the floor, and her arms wrapped around her knees. She never loved herself. She was a tool, had been from the moment she was kidnapped by the Guild. They turned her into a killing machine, an enraged dog they sent after their enemies. She barked when they wanted them to. She mauled when they needed her to, and there was nothing else for her. They brought little comfort, just enough so she could feel rewarded, but not enough so she could sit down and think about what she liked, what she wanted to do in her life besides killing for the Guild. There was nothing left....
Or so she thought.
She fell in love. He loved her, too, or maybe he pretended to. She did not know. That love made her realize that she had something to give. That love made her realize that she wanted more of life than just being a tool. That love made her appreciate herself a little more. She liked her laugh. She liked her tooth gap. She even liked the uncanny blue eyes that everyone thought were contacts. She surprised herself with dreams of freedom, lovely little dreams that made her yearn for more. She liked her jokes, the way she cuddled Anton, and the way she cared for him. She was creative, inspired by the smiles he would give her. She enjoyed her softness, her capacity to give love. She enjoyed the version of herself she glimpsed. A version capable of love. A version capable of softness... A version that wanted to live. She was able to build rather than destroy, and she loved it. She liked herself there.... She liked herself.... Why could she not love herself? Phoenix sighed and slowly cried against her knees. What could she do, if not cry her heart out?
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