A short extract from the short story I’m currently working on about the journey through the troubled feelings of a young woman fighting against her fears.
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The music had to be louder than the sound of her fears when she was in that mood. She knew that if she gave way to the flow of memories they were going to torment her for the rest of the day. It’s hard to stop your brain from moving when you’re an over thinker. It’s hard to stop painful memories from knocking on your soul if those memories are in your blood and they’re part of who you are. How can you explain to someone who doesn’t know anything about you how a simple word can be enough to take you back in years and make the scars hurt like hell? She thought there was no way to explain it, she had to keep it to herself. Like an awful lot of other things she kept buried deep down her battered heart.
