Never Ends

The nurse made a few last scratches of pen on paper before closing the yellow folder and looking up to the desk nurse. Laying the folder on the counter nurse Jayne placed her elbows on the file and leaned closer to the receptionist.

“Did you see the patient in room five?” the young nurse pretended to whisper.

“Oh yes, poor Carol,” the elderly receptionist slowly shook her head, “she used to make me think of the little baby doll I gave my granddaughter years ago. Such innocence in her eyes, I never thought she’d fall into the trouble she has now.”

No one knows just what has become of her
Shattered doll, desperate
Oh, so innocent and delicate
But too damn obdurate
And obstinate to let go

“If you ask me,” nurse Jayne sneered, “She deserved it. If she’s too stubborn and proud to leave then that’s her fault.”

“Jayne! How could you say something like that? When I saw her walk in she was so wounded and scared, the little bird could hardly sign herself in she was trembling so bad.” The desk nurse looked down to the little slip of paper that informed them Carol had slipped on spilt milk and hit the table.

“Do you really think her injuries were from that table? Could an accident like that really cause her to look like the walking dead?” the receptionist asked

Jayne softened, remembering how Carol acted when she took the delicate woman’s vitals, “No, no milk and table could do that to her.”

“She’s so young,” the receptionist said quietly, “what is she doing with him?”

Broken down, hurt again, it never ends
Frightened and trembling
Did she fall again? An accident
Her eyes encircled in black again
I can't believe that she's still with him

~

Carol walked back into her tiny studio apartment, the doctor’s prescription gripped tightly and his final words ringing in her head.

”When you’re ready to find yourself again, all you have to do is give me a call.”

Sighing she set the doctor’s note on the counter, she began to clean up the milk. She couldn’t help but to be grateful that he wasn’t home, that he had slammed from the house to go to the bar.

She didn’t expect him back till the early morning hours, which left her enough time to recompose and settle her emotions.

Wiping up the last of the gallon of milk that he had slammed against her head Carol rose, wrung the cloth out, and walked to the bathroom to clean herself up.

She went to the tub and turned the water on, walking to the sink to let the water warm.

But it was forgotten when she saw the reflection in the mirror.

Who was that person? The girl who looked so lost and broken?

What happened to Carol? The Carol before he came in and controlled everything?

The reflection no longer showed Carol’s radiant wheat colored hair, her brilliant blue eyes, or her curvaceous body.

No, the girl in the mirror had dirty hair, darkly shadowed eyes, and a body so slim she swore she would disappear if she turned sideways.

The doctor’s words echoed in her head again.

How was she supposed to find herself when her reflection didn’t even look familiar?

For how long will you try?
How long until you walk away?
Your facade can't disguise
The fact that you're in misery

Turning from the mirror’s agonized eyes, Carol reset the bath’s water, removed her clothes, and slowly lowered her pain-filled body into the warm water.

Reaching to stop the water Carol froze when she noticed her watery image. Through the ripples she caught glimpses of the old Carol, the one who was healthy and care free.

She watched as the water flowed to and fro, causing her image to switch from the battered Carol to the one who she wanted to be again.

But could she really do it? Could she really fight to bring herself back?

She was afraid it would be too hard.

Look inside, see what has become of her
Hiding within again
Can she pick herself up again?
It's just too difficult and arduous to let go

Closing her eyes, she sank under the water until her lungs burned for oxygen. Rising up Carol gasped and choked, turning the flowing water off as she felt a tear roll down her wet face.

Suicide’s out, apparently she wasn’t able to do herself in.

But… no, she couldn’t do that.

How could she kill him if she couldn’t kill herself?

But what other option did she have?

All this pain, the lack of freedom, it’s just been too much.

Homicide flashes through her mind again
No more pain, take control
If he raises his hand again
She'll find her freedom in killing him
The world will see that she's had enough

No.

She couldn’t kill him, it just wasn’t right.

She sighed and looked down, still seeing her reflection moving in the water.

She watched in shock as her reflection began to sing:

For how long will you try?
How long until you walk away?
Your facade can't disguise
The fact that you're in misery

Gasping she jumped from the tub, almost slipping on her slick feet. Holding onto the sink she shuttered, slowly taking deep breaths.

Did that really just happen? Did she really hear her own reflection singing?

Taking another deep breath she looked up.

Then froze when the mirror’s image sang to her again:

For how long will you try?
How long until you walk away?
From the look in your eyes
I know you bleed internally

Carol ran from the room, quickly wrapping a towel around her body and skidding to her dresser.

What is going on? Was she going insane?

Pulling on some sweats and a baggy t-shirt Carol questioned whether or not she was crazy.

But then she heard it again, her soft voice singing. She looked up to the mirror attached to her dresser and watched as the old Carol sang to her:

For how long will you deny?
How long until you walk away?
Your facade can't disguise
The fact that you're in misery

That’s when she began to really listen to the Carol she had buried deep inside.

How long would she deny? How much longer was she going to let him beat her down and make her fell like scum?

She was so used to the whispers and comments those around her made. The comments about her weight loss and bruises.

The whispers about why she continued to live with him.

How much longer could she ignore the fact that he was unhealthy for her?

And could she allow him to do this to another person if she left?

Closing her eyes, Carol made the decision that would change not only her life, but other’s as well.

Turning from the dresser she began to prepare for when he came home.

Walking to the closet Carol rummaged through the top shelf, bringing down an old shoe box.

Inside the box she extracted the pistol he kept around. At least once a month he would threaten her with it, but tonight she would wield the weapon.

Looking at the little digital clock by the bed she estimated he would be home in about an hour.

Just enough time to set everything up.

~

When she heard the lock in the door click Carol began to reconsider.

She couldn’t do this, she wasn’t the killing type.

But just before he entered she heard the now familiar singing. Looking to her right Carol saw the woman she wanted to be reflected in the window.

For how long will you try?
How long until you walk away?
From the look in your eyes
I know you bleed internally

Nodding to her reflection Carol watched as he drunkenly entered the room, leaning heavily against the wall.

“Carol! Where are you, you bitch?”

Standing tall she stepped from the bathroom, staring him down.

“There you are,” he pushed from the wall, “get over here and help me to bed.”

She slowly walked closer, allowing the sock to swing with the weight of the bar of soap she had slipped in.

He noticed the sock, “What do you think you’re doing?” he sneered, “Do you really think you can win against me?”

She didn’t say anything, stopping just within her arms reach.

He gave a drunken laugh, “Okay, I’ll play along. For every hit you get in, I get three more.”

Quickly glancing to the window, Carol watched as her reflection gave a small nod.

Smiling, she pulled her arm back and slammed the soap filled sock into his head.

She didn’t stop when he fell, just continued to bring the soap down on his body.

His grunts of pain filled the room, fueling her adrenalin.

When she felt the soap had done enough, she slowly stepped back, put the sock down, and picked up the next instrument.

While the memory of when he had beat her with the soaped sock still brought agony to her body, the thought of him hitting her with the kitchen chair again made her shudder.

So she grabbed the chair and brought it down to smack into his back.

Again and again she used the chair on him, the sound of his grunts and groans giving her a rhythm to move to.

Tossing the abused chair she picked up the final weapon, putting the barrel of the pistol against his bloody temple.

He looked up at her with pleading eyes, “Please, don’t do this,” he gasped.

But it was too late, she wasn’t backing out now.

Holding eye contact she pulled the trigger, not even flinching when blood and brain matter splattered all over the wall and herself.

She stayed crouched by his lifeless body for a while, not moving while his eyes went blank.

Then she slowly rose, grabbed the phone, and punched in the number scrawled on the prescription paper.

“This is Dr. Marshall,” a groggy voice answered.

“Yes,” her voice sounded different, more emotionless then before, “This is Carol and I need an ambulance,” she stared at her reflection in the dresser mirror, not noticing that the image was now so distorted it resembled more of a demon then the Carol she saw.

And in a demonic voice that she found soothing the demon sang:

Broken down, hurt again
It never ends

~Three Days Later~

Nurse Jayne walked into work, stopping at the receptionist’s desk, “Did you hear about what happened?”

The elderly nurse looked up from the computer, “Yes, poor Carol. She used to be such a good girl.”

Jayne nodded, “I know, but then she went wacko and killed him! Yesterday they finally admitted her into that mental institution in Florida.”

The receptionist nodded, “I wonder how she’s doing.”

~

Carol sat in her little white room, looking at the barred window.

Every day a nurse would drop off food and then come back hours later only to pick up the untouched plate.

They wondered why she always sat at the little window and they wondered what was so interesting about what was beyond it.

But it wasn’t the landscape that she was fascinated with.

No, it was her reflection.

The one that always gave a demonic smile and sang in a horrifyingly scratchy voice like a broken record:

Never ends
Never ends
Never ends
Never ends