Behind The Paint

3 - Sorrow 3

She continued, her voice filled with anger and hatred, as if she was trying to lash out at the world that had caused her so much pain.

The servants tried to comfort her, as if they were trying to ease her pain, as if they were trying to help her through this tough time. But even as they tried to console her, they knew that there was nothing that they could do, nothing that they could say, that could heal the pain that was filling her heart.

"Get out, now.", Imya barked, ordering the servants. She was tired of the pity and the sympathy, the concern and the questions. She was tired of everything.

"I want to be alone. I want to be left alone. I want to be away from everybody and everything", Imya continued, her voice filled with anger and frustration. She didn't want to talk to anyone, she didn't want to see anyone, she didn't want to hear anyone talk.

"Just leave me alone", Imya growled, as if she was ready to attack anyone who came near her.

"Please..."

For the first time ever, Imya's voice was filled with desperation, as if she was begging for something, as if she was trying to reach out to someone.And this time she wasn't acting.

She was always the one giving orders, always the one in control, always the one who didn't need anyone's help. But now, for the first time, she was the one who was desperate, who was in need of comfort, who was trying to find a shoulder to cry on.

She was trying to hold back the tears, trying to keep her composure, trying to stay in control. But as the tears started to stream down her face, she realized that she couldn't hold on anymore.

She was tired, she was hurt, and she was desperate. She was desperate for someone to understand, for someone to listen, for someone to help her.

No.

The truth is...

She never liked showing her vulnerability.

She kept her pain to herself, not even daring to show it to someone. She was always the one in control, always the one that didn't need anyone's help, always the one that didn't show her emotions.

But now, for the first time, she was desperate, she was in pain, and she was trying to hold back the tears. She was trying to hold on to her composure, trying to stay in control, trying to keep her pain to herself.

But as the tears started to stream down her face, she realized that she couldn't hold on anymore. She was tired, she was hurt, and she was desperate. She was desperate for someone to understand, for someone to listen, for someone to help her.

But even as the tears kept streaming down her face, she couldn't bring herself to admit her vulnerability, to admit that she was hurting, to admit that she needed help.

The servants listened, and left Imya alone in her big, fancy, yet empty room. She was on her knees in the middle of her room, sobbing and crying, her cries echoing.

Her sobs were like a cry for help, like she was trying to reach out to someone, like she was trying to let the tears out, like she was trying to let go of everything that was inside her.

" Why ?", she sobbed, her voice filled with pain, as if she was trying to understand why this had happened to her. She was trying to make sense of it all, to find an answer, to find a way to heal.

But as the sobs kept coming, as the tears kept streaming down her face, she realized that there was no answer, that there was no way to make sense of it all, that there was no way to heal the pain that was filling her heart.

She crawled to her desk, still crying, but trying to remain calm, she called Mr Tom. " Hey, cancel the plan ", she said, her voice filled with sadness and desperation, as if she was trying to stop something terrible from happening.

Mr Tom was surprised, he was not used to this side of Imya. " Why ? What happened ? ", Mr Tom asked, his voice filled with concern, as if he was trying to understand what was going on.

" Please, just do it ", Imya sobbed, her voice filled with pain, as if she was trying to release all of her pain and hurt in a single moment.

And with a sigh, Mr Tom agreed to cancel the plan.

Imya hanged up.

She threw herself on the bed, looking at the plain ceiling. She was tired, she was hurt, she was exhausted. She was still crying, but the tears were not as intense as before.

Looking around, she couldn't help but feel the haunting nostalgia, the times she trusted her husband and they were having fun in this room...

...She didn't like it.

Starting from her desk, she destroyed everything that reminded her of Donatello.

She was trying to let go of everything that was associated with him, trying to forget him, trying to forget the pain that he had caused her. And as she destroyed everything, she felt like she was healing, like she was moving on.

She was wrong.

Imya stalked towards the framed pictures on the shelves, the place where she'd broken that one picture of her marriage with Donatello. Her feet were covered in glass shards, and the floor was still stained with the blood of the picture she had shattered.

The glass shards dug into her feet, but she didn't seem to mind. Her eyes were filled with a mix of pain, anger, and hatred, as if she was trying to let go, as if she was ready to release everything that was inside her.

Her hand moved toward the shelf of happy and wholesome pictures of her and Donatello, but instead of picking up a picture, her hand moved through the shelf, knocking down all of the framed pictures. The glass shattered into pieces as they hit the ground, creating a blanket of broken glass on the floor, with Imya at the center of it all.

It was like she was trying to destroy everything that was associated with him, everything that was part of their marriage, everything that reminded her of him. She was trying to let go, trying to move on, trying to forget the pain that was filling her heart.

" Donatello, I'll kill you one day. "
Imya smiled maniacally, destroying everything in her room that reminded her of her husband. Her hands moved with hatred, with rage, with a desire to break everything that was associated with him.

The bed sheets were torn apart, the pillows were completely destroyed, it was where she had the most fun with Donatello.

The book they had been reading was torn into pieces and thrown all over the place.

The vase and the flowers that Donatello had bought her long ago were smashed and thrown all over the place.

And her jewelry, the pearls and gems that he had bought her, were thrown all over the place, shattering all over the place as well.

It was as if she was trying to let go, to let go of everything that was associated with him, everything that was a part of their relationship, everything that reminded her of him. It was as if she was trying to move on, to let go of the pain that was filling her heart.

Imya cried and sobbed, yet smiled. She was determined, she had a plan.

" Yes, I'll just... run away"

She said, as if she was trying to convince herself that it was the right decision, that it was the only way.

"Angelo can help me!", she continued, as if she was trying to stay hopeful, as if she was trying to hold on to this thought, as if it was the only thing that could save her now.

She was desperate, she was determined, and she was ready to do anything to escape the pain that was filling her heart.

I don't think that there's any more 'as if'.

She's completely lost it.