Wounded Heart

Chapter 13 free but not free

Elena lay still on the stiff mattress, the antiseptic smell of the infirmary burning her nostrils. Four days had passed since she was brought here, her body battered and broken. The nurses came and went, their faces a blur of white coats and hurried footsteps.

Finally, the day arrived when Elena was deemed well enough to leave the infirmary. As she was escorted down the dimly lit corridors to the ward, she could feel the eyes of the other inmates boring into her like daggers. Whispers followed her every step, and she could sense disdain that radiated from them.

Settling into her cell, Elena felt the weight of isolation press down on her like a heavy blanket. The other inmates avoided her, giving her a wide berth whenever she ventured out to eat or use the facilities. The stench of neglect hung in the air, mingling with the despair that seemed to permeate every corner of the ward.

Even her bullies, the ones who had tormented her for so long, seemed to sense her vulnerability and kept their distance.

Two years had passed. Elena's was release from the prison that had held her captive, both physically and emotionally. As she stepped out into the world beyond the bars, the weight of freedom settled upon her shoulders like a heavy cloak. The sun shone brightly overhead, its warmth a stark contrast to the cold confines of her former prison cell.

She was so confused on which direction to go, no body even bothered to pick her up.

Returning to her city, Elena found herself torn between relief and apprehension. The familiar streets that had once been her sanctuary now felt foreign and unfamiliar. Memories of her past haunted her every step, reminding her of the person she used to be before her life had been derailed by tragedy.

Despite the newfound freedom that surrounded her, she felt adrift, unsure of where to turn or what path to follow. Each step she took felt aimless, a hollow echo of the life she once knew.

With no job, no family, and no clear purpose, Elena wandered the streets of the city in a daze, her mind consumed by confusion and uncertainty. The bustling crowds around her only served to amplify her sense of isolation, leaving her feeling more lost than ever before. She longed for a sense of direction, a guiding light to lead her out of the darkness that threatened to engulf her.

She spent her days wandering aimlessly through the streets, seeking refuge in the quiet corners of her city.

she now found herself begging strangers for scraps of food just to survive. Each day brought with it a new humiliation, as she swallowed her pride and pleaded for help from those who passed her by.

With hunger gnawing at her belly, Elena's desperation grew with each passing hour. She approached passersby with trembling hands and tear-stained cheeks, begging for even the smallest morsel of sustenance. But to no avail. The world turned a blind eye to her suffering, leaving her to fend for herself in the unforgiving streets.

Some even called her a mad woman because of the way she looked and dressed.

As night fell, Elena sought refuge in the hidden alcoves and darkened corners of the city. She found a makeshift shelter beneath the bridge, where she could rest her weary bones and escape the prying eyes of the world above. It was a lonely existence.

If someone had told Elena that she would one day find herself homeless, she would have scoffed at the notion. She had once been so sure of her place in the world, at least she had a job that was enough to provide for her. So confident in her ability to carve out a life of comfort and security. But now, as she huddled beneath the bridge, she couldn't help but wonder how it had all gone so horribly wrong.

She would never had believed that she would be dragging for space under the bridge with a mentally unstable person.

As Elena lay down on the cold, hard ground, her mind a whirlwind of uncertainty, she couldn't shake the nagging worry of what lay ahead.

In the eyes of society, Elena was nothing more than a pariah—a stain on the fabric of their carefully constructed reality. They shunned people like her, whispered about her behind closed doors, as if her mere presence was a threat to their way of life. She knew it was going to be a very difficult life ahead.

Where was she even going to start from? Should she contact her father? She was sure the man didn’t even care if she was still alive. The last time she called him was when she was in prison, immediately he knew it was her, he warned her never to call again and that was it.

She had promised herself a long time ago that she was done crying or feeling pity for her self. But that night she couldn’t help it as the burden of everything weighed her down in despair.