The ocean in her eyes

Water drops, trembling, jumped off Anna's face. Her act of splatting water onto her face continued mechanically. She was not ready to escape the loop yet. 

The transparent 'water' soldiers, who had emerged with vigor, were now all lifeless and red, freeing Anna of her stains. 

In the washbasin lay the silent witness—the dagger, her accomplice. Once a culprit, it is now stripped of all its powers. It lay watching the soldiers disappear into the depths unfathomed, washing away all their sins. 

A transient interruption of the water flow breaks Anna free from the loop. She meets her own eyes in the mirror. That encounter with her own reflection seemed like one with a stranger. Those eyes were familiar yet unfamiliar. 

Her hollow eyes mirrored the depth of the ocean, stable and immune to all turbulence. Those brown eyes, calm and remorseless, reflected callousness. Memories flashed before her eyes—her dagger, the death stab, and his pale, lifeless face. Like the deep ocean, unaffected, her face remained indifferent.

Anna kept looking at her face. The blood stains, which no longer existed, were all she could find on her clean face. She could feel the agitation in her oceanic eyes, soaring up and down like the tides.

Images of her lifeless daughter, laden with bullets in a pool of blood, flashed before her. It made her vulnerable, exposing all her weaknesses. She couldn't resist her tears anymore.

She knew that her starry-eyed angel, her chatterbox, was alive only in her memories. Excruciating pain took control of her. She could feel her limbs weakening. She hunched, supporting her hands on the basin. 

Water kept gushing from the tap. Anna remained fixated on the stream of water, those transparent soldiers striking the ceramic.

With fate sealed as theirs, they didn't even have a choice. What could these fragile soldiers do other than give in to all the obstacles resisting them? Are battles against such vulnerables even legitimate? 

"She was just a child, fragile like water, unfit in this devilish world." 

"I snatched the justice my child deserved. I killed him with my dagger." Her cry reverberated within the walls of her bathroom.

"Who is guilty? The psychopath who killed hundreds, or me?"

"Didn't I give them the justice they deserved?" 

These questions kept floating, carried by the oceanic turbulence within her. 

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. What are your views on this topic, would love to hear them :)

Word count: 390

Why this story: First and foremost my story is a tribute to motherhood. My mother has always been my pillar. Thanks for taking care of us and making us who we are!

This is also my attempt to start over as a writer, so I'm planning to explore human emotions through this series.

If you enjoyed this short story, feel free to like and comment.

I would really appreciate your feedback.<3

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