"Well you know what John? I really fucking hate you sometimes”
she screams for the millionth time over the phone to ears that no longer care. In
her small one bedroom apartment adorned only by a small circular mirror, a twin
sized bed and a knee high wooden table with a bright blue plastic chair, all is
still. Even as she paces angrily back and forth on her usually talkative floor
boards there is not a single sound save for the quiet giggle on the other end
of the phone, of a beast entertained; the frigid indifference of a man unphased.
He knows she doesn't mean it.
And she knows that she can’t. You see it’s
only Tuesday but it’s their tenth fight this week and soon he’ll just suddenly hang
up; like always, without saying a word, for the fourth time this week. She knows he’ll find a way to blame her, he
always does. He’ll tell her she did not deserve a goodbye or was worthy of the
chance for resolution, entitled to the common courtesy of a warning that their
conversation was about to end. But then again, she’s never deserving of a
goodbye, never worthy of the chance to win or to explain or of any chance at
all. Why should today be any different?
As the call goes dead like her room for the fourth time this
week, she feels a type of muffled anger, a mute frustration unable to be
spoken. In the midst of her tiny apartment her thoughts begin to attack her
body like an avalanche. She is suddenly surrounded by the decisions she needs
to make to save herself but plagued by the inability to move forward. She finds
herself looking at the phone, wanting to call him back. She wants to scream and
yell then apologize. She always ends up apologizing. But she knows she must not
call. She knows she must stay strong, if just for once. Suddenly In the silence
of her mental torment she almost laughs, “Strong?
What do I know about strong? “ she says aloud to an audience
that can’t answer. She feels embarrassed. She knows she is weak. In her own
tiny apartment, adorned only by a circular mirror, a twin sized bed and a
wooden knee high table with a bright blue plastic chair, she knows she has
lost. After all she isn’t ‘worthy’ of winning.
In the circular mirror,
she does not recognise the stranger staring back. Her bright almost green,
hazel eyes now appear gray and dull. Her once smooth skin now feels rough and
haggard; tarnished by the elements she has let into her life. Her kinky brown
curls that once sprung with life are now limp and defeated; sitting on top of
her head like dirt clinging to a rock. She can’t see the girl she once was
three years ago before John came and destroyed her very being. The girl she was
before she let him ‘win’. She no longer feels real, as though she is a real
person, worthy of respect or love but instead a woman made from stone. A statue
no longer cared for, a model frozen in time until it’s time for her to break; every
scar on her heart, a new crack on her surface. She feels trapped in a body he
has created, a body that he has shaped then loved and now discards. She is not
her own person.
Then again she doesn’t deserve to be her own person.
The reality soon becomes too much for her. She can’t breathe.
Her tiny apartment now feels even smaller, her twin sized bed now a reservoir
of unwanted memories. She cannot stay in here, not now. She starts to gasp as
she feels the air being raped from her lungs, the energy being strangled from
her spirit. She runs out of her building, unsure of whether to scream or cry,
her breaths are shallow and fast. Her heart beat is echoing throughout her
stone body.
She soon stops running. She is now outside. She can now
breathe. She hopes that now she can think. It’s dark, and she doesn’t know the
exact time, probably around that time when it’s so late that it’s early. She
notices now that she has left her phone, not that it matters, he won’t call
anyway. She doesn’t know where she is, her college campus much like the world
can seem so big when one is lost. She is disoriented and alone but still she
feels an eerie sense of calm, a type of comradry with the night. In the
darkness she feels cloaked; hidden from the cruelties that stain her life. She
decides to walk straight. Any direction will do.
In the midst of the darkened campus she is unable to specify
where she is. Every building seems foreign and every shadow unfamiliar. The
quiet whispers of her bare feet on the pavement sound new and undiscovered. She
likes this type of lost. The cold wind gently kisses her cheek, and playfully
ruffles her hair. Her curls feel alive again, if only for a second. She begins
to embrace the night as she steps forward, becoming bolder in her stride. It is
too dark for her to see too far in front of her but the security of the night
gives her the confidence to proceed. She feels safe. In the middle of the
campus she now explores, she forgets the judgement of her knee high wooden
table as she ignores her work to ‘save’
her relationship, she forgets the mocking of her floorboard as she paces back
and forth begging John to forgive her. In the midst of darkness she can be free
of her own regret; absolved of her petty sins.
She continues to walk straight with no destination in mind,
when in a moment she feels pain spring throughout her body like a town under
siege. She looks down and sees that her bare foot has collided with a rock; a
stupid, normal, ordinary rock. She didn’t even see it coming. In an instant she
is on the floor, succumbing to the pain of her throbbing foot. She has lost
again. In a jolt she has returned to reality. She knows where she is. She
remembers why she’s there, why she left her apartment. She sees his face in her
mind. It is angular, beautiful but so far away. His small, brown eyes look cold
and distant. She can feel the disdain of his tense brow, piercing through her stone
chest; another scar, another crack. She hates him. She wants to hate him. Why
can’t she allow herself to hate him? She feels angry, at herself, and at him.
And at the stupid rock; that stupid, normal, ordinary rock that she didn’t see
coming. That stupid, normal, ordinary rock that now has made her collapse on
the floor. That rock that made her lose
again.
She can’t take it!
She can feel the once foreign buildings
start to laugh at her defeat. She can feel the heat from within her as her face
begins to glow in a bright red, her gray eyes melted by the steam of her own frustration.
She gets up, and grabs the rock. She feels the rough edges that feel akin to
the harsh texture of her once smooth skin. She knows what she must do.
She starts to walk
left. Though she is limping her steps have purpose as in her right hand she
carries the rock made light by the dreams of her future revenge, the opponent
that had defeated her now her weapon for victory. In a few minutes she somehow manages to walk
the entire width of the campus. Now nearing the halls of residence, the sun is
beginning to rise. In front of her, there now stands a large green building
stirring with noises. The demons within are now well rested, their troubles
fed, ready to take on the day. On the ground floor just inches in front of her,
is a window.
Through the window she sees a shadow. She knows it. Though not
brought to light, she can see his angular face; she can picture his small brown
eyes, his tense brow, piercing through her stone chest. She is the portrait of
a woman scorned, her eyes on fire. She wants him to pay. She looks at the stone,
and then at the shadow and smiles. She knows what she must do. She takes it and
throws it at window, her aim flawless. From her safe distance she hears the sounds of
broken glass, the loud and melodic trickling of shards on the ground, the
frightened scream of a man unprepared.
She did it but she is unsatisfied. She wants to feel powerful, like she has won.
But there is no relief in her revenge, no salvation in her victory. She knows
her damage is only material.
She can only shatter his window because she cannot
shatter his heart.
By: Werepupjeremy
- 15:53
- 0 Comments
