House of cards

She said that she was looking for a job, she claimed to have these plans that would lead to five hundred results and that everything was  possible. She said she was doing and not waiting, she was good at lying.

She ended up sitting on the last three steps of a twenty-seven staircase because of everything she had manipulated. She was breathing as if she had received a punch to the lungs, with her elbows nailed to her thighs and trying to solve what the first lie was, looking for the thread, but those were a knot.

She had been looking for time, running away from what it meant to grow and face reality. She wasn't prepared for what it meant to have ultimatum for situations, thus she had created a solid empire of deception and was now reaping it in the solitude of a drowned house in silence. Her work had devoured the life of the place and she was with the cold in an echo of her breathing, her sentence was the eternal in the black doors, the wooden floors, the hollow walls and the old doors that betrayed every thief. She had no other place to live other than the house where he could walk through with closed eyes, the same that was the centre of every nightmare she had ever had.

She had tried to explain how it had started, that it had been unintentionally, an escape. That from there it was a slippery rope, so it became easy to understand how she fell, and she just wanted calmness that came with the happiness of the rest. She didn't know for what to ask for forgiveness for.

She had a bottle of water in each room, she had grown tired of the trip from the kitchen to the entrance patio to the second floor bathroom. The stove on the first floor was where she made her nest of pillows and blankets, and she had started planting vegetables and fruit in the yard. She was also learning to adapt her diet and balance the new style. Leaving several changes of clothes for when she did gymnastics and she left the cell phone in the garage with the same ten songs on repeat. She was getting used to the punishment, to the silence that left her thinking and recognizing the words she had misrepresented. She had started reaking forty glasses for each time she saw herself smile with what she had said and was without screams to release. Her hands trembled every time they brushed against the front door handle, it was electricity that burned her fingers when she felt the cold metal and her bones felt like opposite magnets. Never being able to hold more than five seconds before remembering the way in which she had created a universe that it was easy to visualize.

She was a slippery bastard and she was pulling on each rope, hoping to find the correct answer. She was desperately telling them to listen to her, but they were quick to turn their backs. In calling her pathetic and leaving behind what she had to say in need to retain them.

She had learned to knit, cook, and clean. She learned how to go back to basics and settled down, the silence became her lover, who kept the secrets of her laughter at two in the morning and the talks in the kitchen. It became the witness of what was left of her on that desolate ground.

TA.