Torture

She didn't know why she had to torture herself so.
'Torture' she mused, a faint smile tugging at her lips. How dramatic. But it would be the apt word. What else could you call it?
It was like watchin the cooking special on TV the night you were dying of hunger and it was too late to buy anything to eat... or like reading your ex-boyfriend's letters, or even worse, reading your own diary's account of the most painful day of your life.
Yep, she thought, combing her rain-drenched hair. Torture was the perfect word...

She wondered if he had noticed though.
She frowned slightly, hoping that was not the case. It would be terrible if he had...
After all the work she had put into this facade, it would kill her knowing one tiny gesture of comfort made it all crash to the ground...
But he had been so upset...
She shook her head, and glared at herself in the mirror.
It was all for good.
Hers and his.
She was just glad she pulled her hand away before it rested on his shoulder...
Jus glad that she pulled it away before he raised his bowed head...
Just relieved that when he looked up at her, the pain had not made the hate vanish, just dimmed it for a while...
So relieved...
and so...

Thunder sounded in the distance, shaking her out of her reverie...
She smiled at her dismal reflection and ran the brush through her hair again.
Torture....