AN: Well, after two hours of trying to write a character analysis for the
short story "A Cup of Tea" (anyone whose read this story can probably
relate) I was feeling very frustrated and a little dark. This is what came
of it. Review if you have something to say about it- good or bad. (I love
reviews =) )
CD cried silently, the kind of crying that comes from so deep inside, so
immense a pain that your heart dies a little with each tear.
It had not been a good day.
When the call came at 4:00 that morning, CD had showered, dressed, and
centered herself to face whatever the sun had decided to shed light on. She
met Tom at the crime scene, drew together her professional veneer and
ducked under the tape to get a closer look at the body. What followed had
been a nightmare. The man who had been killed was the stepfather of two
young girls, only 10 and 12 years old. They were sitting stone faced next
to their sobbing mother when the body was rolled past them out the door. CD
had barely opened her mouth when the older one said she had killed him. He
had been abusing her for years and when she found him starting with her
little sister she stole his gun from under their mother's bed and shot him.
CD had no choice but to place the girl under arrest. She was so preoccupied
with that that she didn't notice the mother's sudden silence. She should
have seen it coming. She no sooner had the girl out the door when the
gunshot went off. Apparently the mother had a history of suicide attempts,
as well as depression. After being faced with the fact that the man she had
brought into her home had raped her daughters, the gun on the hip of the
officer to her right seemed like the perfect way out. It was such a
surprise attack that no one had a chance to move before it was over. So now
CD had two orphaned girls, both the victims of sexual abuse, one being
charged with first degree murder, the other who was just that morning
covered in her mothers blood after watching her blow her head off. And
there wasn't a whole hell of a lot she could do.
Sometimes she just felt so damn helpless.
So it was the over all events of the day, combined with the memories that
every rape case, especially those involving children, seem to bring up,
that found her curled up in her blanket, staring out into the nothingness
pressing itself against her window. And she was all alone.
She had stopped going to therapy after she and Paul broke up. She saw no
point in it anymore. She had worked through it to save her marriage, and
now there was nothing left to save. No one to tell, now that she had the
courage to say it out loud.
Such is life.
So, instead she cried. It was the only thing that she could do. She cried
for the two girls, she cried for their mother, she cried for all the pain,
suffering, and injustice in the world. She cried for her helplessness, her
seeming ineffectiveness as a contribution to the world, she cried for her
loneliness, her aloneness, and she cried for herself.
She cried until there was nothing left inside.
And then she slept.