January 1st

Manhattan, New York, USA 

The pressure kept her on the cold tiles.

It spread across her neck, nipping, biting, beating into submission. 

The color of pain clouded her vision, a pool of it kissed her abused cheeks. 

How sweet sleep would be, an eternal nap in the confines of darkness. 

Her body, mind, and soul wrapped in the soft arms of blackness. 

What did the slave do this time? Does it matter? 

No. 

The mind has lost track of the body's offenses. 

The body has lost touch with the heart. 

The pain only kisses the flesh now, it never actually bites.

 It has become common, the way of her world. 

How can one feel when they've become a shell? 

Nothing more but an object, a mindless thing to command. 

"Clean yourself up"  The pressure is removed " We have guest"

She obeys. 

A white skirt suit she selected. 

White heels and blood red lips. 

She fixes his doll, his trophy. 

Polishes the prize and hides the dents and broken pieces. 

Slicks her hair back, adorns herself with a simple gold necklace and golden stud. 

Display his wealth. He enjoys this. 

Then she saw to his children. 

Mireya and Basilio De Pablo

Little princess and prince. 

She gave them colors, soft innocent colors. 

Little unbroken things, the source of her happiness. 

The objects of his praise and attention. 

They waited in the lounge 

He enters with a sense of superiority. 

Strong and Intimidating. 

She wants to curve into herself, to pull back from yet another King. 

But she is the Queen here. 

She cannot. 

Piero takes his hands into his, shakes it, firmly. 

They smile politely, move like Kings. 

"James McVocay, this is my wife Contessina De Pablo" 

Those eyes hold her in a sweet embrace. 

How she dreamed of those eyes. 

He takes her hand, kisses the back of her palm. 

His lips are soft, like snow. 

They sit, they have tea. The men speak, the women speak. The children play. 

Her mind never left him. Her body remains coiled. 

He stole glances.  He smothered her with his gaze. 

He sees her, all of her. 

What is becoming of her?