courage to believe

Tanya Cartels slept with a mind going not from A-Z last night. C-B, E-A, then C-B again. They kept rewinding and rewinding in a reel-like motion of a film, she could not sleep anymore. Searching amongst the heaps of books and papers obscuring the ashtray in the dark corner of her room, she grabbed the half-smoked cigarette and pursed her lips against the tobacco stick. She sucked hard. Her one hand was scribbling vigorously on that notepad against the torment of her mind. The flicks of memories hit her mind continuously as she flicked the ashes off the stick between her long fingers. The scribbles on the notepad had become to her, the scars on her heart. Tears started to flood her eyes and streamed down against her cheekbones, endlessly down her neck, onto her flimsy satin top. She sucked hard again, this time, it choked her throat so much that her breath turned congested with tears. She pulled her ruffled hair away from her face and plunged backwards into the mess again. If only it could be flung out of the window, she would not need the courage to believe. The courage to believe, she would not be hurt ever again.