Falling
The floor began to fall away, each time when he changed. Suddenly, a different person stood in her living room. The warm, and kind eyes of the man she loved replaced by cold marbles, like the ones that she seemed to be losing, as no one else even seemed to see what she saw.
Later, she found out that the floor began to fall away for him, in those moments, as well. But that was after hell. After she had ended up in the hospital with broken bones. After she had managed to hold on to the last bit of substance in her, the last bit of the life force that had almost completely drained away, her bones had started to crumble, and her hair had fallen out. After a mysterious debilitating pain had almost completely immobilised her. After she began to re-gain strength in physical matters which, to that day, have been gaslit away by the experts who were supposed to help. After they had offered her a stay in the psychiatric ward instead of help in dealing with a man who suffered from psychosis, and had become a danger for her.
After the floor beneath her had begun to fall away so many times, that she had learned to fly.
This microfiction has been inspired by the writing prompt #FromOneLine 347 — “The floor began to fall away”.
