Patriarch

She lost more than just her voice that night. The reckless crime spree robbed her of her dignity, her safety and whittled away at her worth. Flashbacks blur the lines between illusion and reality and like a broken record the words, “how do I make this stop?” play over and over in her dreams. Her hands clutch the steering wheel as she rounds the corner of the parking structure. On any other day she would have avoided this parking garage, just as she now does with walks after sunset, dresses and martinis. But today, today was different. As she hustled towards downtown the noise from the flickering street light above induced a panic and layered her body in a film of sweat. Terror alarms her every move as she plays her daily game of hide-and-seek. Her jaunt becomes a wobbly as the anxiety of arriving late weighs heavily on her mind. You see, she has become a professional at the sport of playing cat and mouse with her senses. From the sound of shoes beating on the pavement, to the catcalls whistled her way, only to serve as a constant reminder of the soot that covers her like a jacket. She has acquired the necessary skill in order to navigate her way through the maze of screeching buses and hollering subways. All the while, quick like a cat, dodging most human interaction. When she finally arrives the air is frigid and the crowd silent. As they rose and the gavel slammed down onto the bench, despair lit up the room like fireworks. For it was not his custom made suit that outwitted the jurors, or that his lie was more believable than her truth. It is that justice fell short and landed on the steps outside city hall. As she stood face to face with her assailant, his smirk pierced her heart as the judge read, “30-day probation” for the burglary that paid homage to the patriarch.