"If only those walls could speak" she whispered to herself, wondering if maybe they did and no one ever truely listened.
She stared at the brand new white walls that used to hold chains and whipps, the same walls she used to hold on to when her heart seemed to be trying to walk right out of her chest.
Almost mocking her dark times, they were bright and shiny, she could swear that it strangly looked like her face were reflecting off one of the corners.
It's been so long since she felt it was ok to have someone living between those walls again. She was sitting in the middle of the room, facing the door, waiting for the new tenant of the room to come in. He walked in with a long confident stride, grabbing her hand and helping her off the floor, as she stood, she turned around, afraid.
"This room has history, and I have heard that history has a tendancy of repeating itslef" she stared at the wall infront of her with a blank horrified look on her face feeling as if there will never be an escape from those chains and sadness.
Thats when she felt soft big hands wrapping around her torso, holding onto her black shirt right at her ribs "This is my home now" he whispered.
In a diffrent lifetime she remembered never wanting to have someone call this room his home. It was writing on her flesh right where his hands were right now. but somehow his grasp, his words, his voice. they all seemed to make sense.
They stood there for minutes that felt like hours, grasping on to each other and staring at the big shiny white walls, at their reflection that stared right back at them from the corner.
For the first time since she took down the chains and whipps she felt like that room wasn't meant to be a rental for people who came and went leaving chaos behind them. Those walls were meant to be white, and Red, and colorful.
That room, was meant to be a HOME.
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Summer is gone