Cover photo

She had Blood on her Face.

A Short Story.

The streets of New York always got me feeling a mix of emotions—alive yet wary. And that night, running into him, it was like stepping back into a dark chapter of my life I thought I'd closed for good.

Seeing his face again sent this chill down my spine, stirring up a jumble of memories, some good but mostly haunting. We locked eyes, and all the trust we once had shattered into a million pieces. Fear got the best of me, just froze me in place, like I was back in the mess of our past.

Then, sadness hit hard. Tears welled up, catching me off guard under that dim alleyway's moonlight. It was the wounds of a love gone sour that did it. But soon, that sadness turned into this fury, this anger boiling up from deep inside.

I wasn't about to let fear or sadness control me. Not anymore. The guy who used to mean the world was now just a test—a test I was ready to ace. My anger became a fuel, giving me this determination to fight back.

The struggle was real, messy even. It was me versus him, a clash of emotions and strength. But with each move, I started feeling like myself again. I wasn't gonna be held down by him or by the past.

When the sun finally showed up, I was a different woman. Blood on my face, sure, but it was pride that filled me up. I'd faced my demons head-on and came out stronger. That smile on my face wasn't just victory—it was freedom. Freedom from all the chains I'd let tie me down for way too long.

He wouldn’t be bothering me, or anyone for that matter, anymore.

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