What if she could never forget? what if she could never forgive? How long would she have to bear the cross of humiliation, and the burden of rage within her?
How long would she have to act as if she had indeed moved on? That was more agonizing that actually admitting that the betrayal still hurt, that the wound was yet raw and the anger still simmered inside.
She wondered how would it be to free of all these emotions for once, to invest herself completely in the life that she had now. To be free of the nagging voice in the head, that as long as she held on to the past, she was cheating the present and the future.
She looked at herself in the mirror, and a tired woman, with dark shadows and bags under her eyes stared back. She looked at the eyes - they held no interest in them. They were just tired with the insomnia. Not a face someone would want to turn around and look at again.
What would it be to have eyes that sparkled with interest again? What would it be to think of a tomorrow and hope and guess what it would have in store?
What if she could never move on? What if the scar was seared into her soul; the betrayal was etched into her psyche so deep that all she could feel now, was rage disgust and a lingering of what once was love?
She sunk into the bed terrified of this thought. And she hated herself for this. All over again.