TITLE: Fracture
AUTHOR: Mexx
DISCLAIMER: Not mine… you know the drill.
RATING: PG-13.
SUMMARY: Faith ponders her broken life.
FEEDBACK: Don’t make me beg. Seeing me beg isn’t pretty. But feedback would be nice.

A fracture. As an adult, fracture can mean so many things… As a child it was a word I didn’t understand. It meant sitting in a clinical, clean, hospital room with a nurse who put a bandage on my arm and told my Mother I’d fractured my arm in two places falling down the stairs. Fracture meant screaming in agony as the doctor bandaged my broken finger from when I slammed my fingers in the car door. A broken arm from the stairs in the bungalow we lived in and broken fingers from a car we didn’t own. Fractured limbs from an angry man.

The social worker told my Mom that my home life was very fractured which was why they were taking me away. They used big words about a broken home and splintered lifestyle. They all meant the same thing. Fracture. A great big gaping whole in the centre of my life. In the centre of me.

When I was seventeen I broke my arm for the first time. My arm had been broken a thousand times before at this point but this time, for the first time, it was me that had broken it. I fractured it while slaying. My first kill. The first time it was no one’s fault but my own that I was hurt, that my arm was fractured.

From then it was just me. Me who looked after myself, kept myself alive and it was always my fault if something got broken. My life is screwed up, my life is fractured, broken apart into little tiny pieces that can’t be put back together by me or by anyone because it was me that made me how I am.

As an adult, I now know that ‘fracture’ means the same as it did when I was a child. A harsh, cruel word that means only one thing. Fracture mains pain and anguish and hurt and a hundred other synonyms. Fracture means broken, and all I have left is little shards of pain that used to be my life.

-finis