Broken By Nike ************************************************************************ Jennifer looked around the darkened hall of the apartment nervously, fumbling in her purse for the spare key. It to a few seconds of searching, and then her fingers closed firmly over the cold hard metal, lifting it from the dark confines of the leather bag. With a small, ragged exhalation—almost like a sob of relief – she slid the key into the lock and opend the door with a practiced flick of her wrist. Once inside, she closed the door behind her, sliding the small bolt into place and securing the thin bronze chain, before leaning heavily against the solid panel of wood. In the darkness of her small, crowded apartment, she could barely make out the large bulky shapes of furniture. For a few seconds, she could hear ugly male laughter, echoing noisily in her ears, and almost fancied she could see their twisted, leering shapes in the back of the two chairs shoved together to make a crude couch, and in the small coffe table with it’s broken leg. The longer she stared at them, the tighter the constriction in her throat grew, until she could barely breathe. With a gasp, she flung herself from the door and against the wall, one hand scrabbling desperately over the textured plaster until she found the smooth rise of the switch. Her breath caught, and then she flipped the switch up, flooding the apartment in the golden-yellow of artificial light. Once more, the furniture was reduced into what it had been: blocks of crafted wood, fitted over with leather And cloth. She heaved a sigh, bringing up a hand to rub at her forehead, and the tight headache that was beginning to form behind her eyes. She was jumping at the slightest of shadows these days. It was crazy. It was stupid. It was what her life had become. Jennifer pushed away from the walls, stumbling wearily towards the makeshift couch, collapsing on it’s rough surface, finally pausing to kick off her shoes. Once that task was finished, she curled into a little ball, bringing her knees up against her chest and resting her chin on them. After a few seconds, she began a slow rocking motion; back and forth, humming a small, mindless little song to herself to banish the otherwise stiffling quiet… “…And everything’s as if…we never…said…goodbye…” Wide, vacant brown eyes slowly closed, though the young woman never ceased rocking back and forth. And as seconds passed, she pulled in even tighter against herself, trying in her own small way to fight back against the snarling, angry laughter that ripped through her mind, taunting her as she struggled. “Eugene’s woman, eh?” “Pretty little thing, isn’t she? No wonder Eugene fell for her.” “Hey, hey, hey, calm down…we aren’t gonna hurt ya…” “Naah…you’ll love it. Trust us…” Her eyes closed even more tightly, her mouth moving in a silent plea for help to someone who could never answer her, ever again. Abruptly, her eyes snapped open, and she rolled off the couch, her movements stiff and mechanical, and began in a swaying attempt to reach the kitchen. She stopped every few seconds to sag heavily against the closest piece of furniture or wall, before pulling herself upright and pushing further. The darkness of the small kitchen swallowed her like a physical being, and for a moment, she panicked, seeing… “No!!! Please, stop!!!” “Relax, whore…I told you, you’ll love this…” “Please! Let go of me!!!” “Oh, so you wanna play rough, eh…?” Her hands were shaking when she flipped the light switch. And even the warmth of electricity couldn’t make the chill in her body leave. Sagging against the wall, her eyes roamed around the tiny quarters, finally alighting on the only remainder she kept of her past. Of him. A small picture from some group picnic. The happy, lighthearted mood that it projected brought an echoing, twisted smile to her face, and she let her head drop limply, as if the tendons in her neck had snapped. For a moment, she was angry. How dare he go off and get himself killed like that?! And then the sobs began, wracking her entire body like a violent electrical jolt. She slid to the floor, covering her face with her hands. She was being stupid and stubborn, she knew. But she couldn’t go back and face them…not after… “So, you’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” “Aw, shit! Don’t cry, lady! You asked for this, after all!” “Jeez! Who would have thought Eugene would have fallen for such a whiny woman?” “Maybe he gets a kick outta their pleading.” “Heh! Knowing Eugene, he would. Now, now, don’t cry.” “Yeah. You’re gonna LOVE what comes next….” Oh, she knew she was being irrational. Her family would forgive her, and her friends would, if anything, be more supportive and protective than before. They could help her through what had happened to her. They could lift her out of the shattered ruins her life had become, and help her rebuild. It was just…her pride. She wasn’t sure when laughter started mingling with the choked tears. It just happened, and once she realized it, she saw no real need to stop. In fact, she let the laughing grow louder, until it nearly overpowered her, keening and loud, even muffled by her hands. And then she was crying again. Dry heaving sobs that hurt more than anything. More than the feet encased in too-tight shoes all day, more than the fading bruise on her cheek from when her boss had grown angry at her, more than the hollow, bleeding place inside her chest… It carried on for five minutes. It carried on forever. And finally, the broken woman Jennifer had become curled into an impossibly tight ball on the hard floor of her dirty little kitchen, and fell asleep.