The stairs were endless as Tara dragged herself upward, her legs heavy and weak. Stopping outside the door, her knees nearly buckled, and she braced herself against the frame. With a hurried motion, she fumbled for the keys, then stumbled into her apartment, collapsing to the floor.

Darkness enveloped the space, and the silence that ensued was only broken by the faint sound of a wail that pierced the stillness.

Tara hunched over, resting her forehead on her arms as her body convulsed with sobs. Tears streamed down her face unabated, tracing paths of dejection as she surrendered to the overwhelming wave of sorrow. 

Her mind raced with questions, each one a sharp jab at her already fragile sense of self. What did she ever do to deserve all of this? Was it her own negligence that led to her plight, or were the perpetrators solely responsible? And if they were to blame, could she absolve herself of any guilt?

Her legs ached from the prolonged, uncomfortable position she was in. Yet, Tara remained frozen, unable to summon the strength to move. She could only lay limp and lifeless like a corpse awaiting its burial.

She'd comforted herself that everything was going to be fine, clinging to the belief that the police would help avenge her. They were going to bring justice and serve it cold and hard to the monsters that ruined her. But reality had shattered that illusion, leaving her feeling betrayed and helpless.

Evidence this. Evidence that. Evidence every fucking thing. Each demand felt like another blow to her already bruised and battered soul.

Couldn't they at least pretend to care, to make an effort? Couldn't they lie to her just to ease her into returning to her everyday life? It would have been better than this cruel indifference, blatant disregard for her feelings, and cold dismissal of her suffering.

Tara's torrent of pain-filled howls weakened to snivels as she lamented her innocence and broken psyche. Her heart, once vibrant and lively, now felt like a heavy burden within her. It screamed in her chest, threatening to burst and stain everything in a dark, vicious crimson.

Flopping to her side, she hugged her legs, gently rocking back and forth in a feeble attempt to soothe herself. Yet, her mind couldn't help but wander and stray.

Her exams were creeping in, and her assignments had piled up. But, she lacked the slightest hint of energy to simply contemplate addressing them. Hell, she had no energy even to remain alive, let alone take her tests.

Hate, hate, hate.

Tara despised everything and everyone. The monsters, the police, the lawyer, her exams, the teachers, the university, the people, and most of all, herself. With her eyes tightly shut, she wished for nothing more than to vanish from existence. She wished she'd never been born.

Death seemed like a tempting escape, and it licked its lips, reaching out to embrace yet another great find. 

But amidst the darkness, a defiant, faint glimmer flickered to life.

Why should she wish death upon herself and entertain thoughts of self-destruction? Wasn't she the one wronged? Hadn't she faced challenges and injustices before, emerging stronger each time?

The spark grew into a quivering flame.

Why should victims carry the burden of shame for the actions inflicted upon them? She held on despite the pain. She survived. So, why should she surrender to despair while her tormentors roamed freely, unpunished?

Pushing herself into a sitting position, Tara stared out her window at the slender crescent outside, fighting for recognition among artificial lights.  

"Fuck men," she muttered, gritting her teeth when her voice trembled. "Fuck the police. Fuck lawyers. Fuck it all."

The flame burned bright and strong. 

Fury etched her features, tightening her jaw and furrowing her brows. She refused to sit around waiting for anyone's help. They were all useless and unreliable, disrespecting her beyond forgiveness.

Tara pushed herself up from the floor. Though her limbs felt like lead, she forced herself to stand. Skipping to the bathroom, she nearly scrubbed her body raw, desperate to rid herself of any trace of their touch. Stepping out from the steam-filled room, she found herself enveloped in the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. She paused in the hallway, unable to shake the sense of heavy emptiness that permeated the air around her.

Her skin stung, and her eyes ached from the scalding water. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, yet sleep remained elusive as she lay sprawled on her bed. The softness beneath her felt uncomfortable.

After much deliberation, Tara plugged her phone into the charger and watched as her screen lit up with the notifications she had missed.

A couple of calls from her mother. A few texts from her classmates. Some emails about upcoming assignments.

Releasing a sigh, she rubbed her face wearily. No one seemed to suspect or notice her disappearance. Living alone for a while now, she had no roommate to realize her sudden absence. Not overly social and phone calls not being her forte, she kept to herself, especially with everyone engrossed in their intense final year's study regime.

Tara couldn't decide whether to feel relieved or heartbroken.

As she scrolled through her social media feed, however, her anger intensified. Seeing everyone living their lives without a care in the world filled her with envy. That could have been her just three days ago. That could have been her if they had driven past her. That could have been her if they had kidnapped someone else. That could have been her if they didn't exist at all.

A raging fire roared within her, threatening to devour everything in its wake.

Tara balled her fists, her nails digging hard into her palms until they drew blood. Hatred surged through her, consuming every fiber of her being.

She had once been a simple girl with big ambitions. But they had shattered her and her dreams.

With a newfound resolve burning within her, Tara stared at the ceiling, a familiar sight that stirred bile up her throat. She had every right to fight back, to seek justice, to reclaim her life. And if no one was going to swoop in and help her attain that, she had no other choice but to step up for the role of her own savior. She's never been a damsel in distress, or one to await others to aid her. She's always been a fighter, a hard worker, and a determined problem solver. 

She's never relented in the face of inequity before, why should this be any different?

It was time to tap into that resilience, to fight back against the darkness threatening to engulf her.

A fiery determination ignited in her eyes. She was going to have to take matters into her own hands. She was going to show them what real monsters were like. They would learn firsthand that the wrath of a woman knew no bounds.

"Hurt one, and you shall suffer the consequences," Tara whispered to herself, her voice laced with a steely resolve.

She didn't need a knight in shining armor. She was no dainty princess. She was neither a savior nor a hero. All she knew was that they'd created a monster and they would soon realize that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Tara vowed to unleash hell upon them. 

Word count: 1238.

Total word count: 7186.

Main prompt✔ (28. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.") 

And so, it begins.

What do you think of Tara's train of thought throughout this chapter? I tried to build toward her being an independent and self-reliant person, and I also tried to give a touch of realistic dark thoughts where she'd wish it wasn't her who got assaulted. 

Trivia:

The crescent moon symbolizes a variety of things, from life and death to rebirth and renewal. It's also known to symbolize womanhood, fertility, intuitiveness, psyche, and empowerment. Waxing crescent moons hold deep symbolism that reminds us of our own innate power. Many people view it as a representation of our ability to start over again, a chance to rebuild their lives and their future.