Denial's Not Just a Feeling

Where Are You, Spirit?

She can't force the world to change no matter how hard she tries. She can't make people understand how wrong their words are when they aren't the ones suffering with a demon inside them, controlling every movement they make, every decision they choose to go forth with. She isn't one of those people who have the luxury anymore to think freely, to do what she desires for the sake of pleasing herself, giving her a sense of worth and fulfillment.

This demon, constantly expressing its hatred and disgust towards her made her world shatter around her like glass, expect her catastrophe happened slowly, one delicate piece at a time without her completely noticing until the window crashed from the top floor, colliding with the cement sidewalk. A part of her spirit watched from the top floor, glancing out the windowless hole nervously. It happened in lightning speed. It ws something she couldn't control.

She had no more control.

As the window shattered into millions of pieces, the her spirit watched from the top floor of the building shaking like the child which hid under the covers during a thunderstorm. And as the lightning flashed during this hurricane and her physical body looked up from the sidewalk helplessly, her spirit had disappeared into the shadows of the top floor, not even leaving her silhouette behind as a clue for her to follow. She didn't know where to find herself anymore. She tried looking under the covers of her bed numerous times, even resorting to checking under her bed where she once believed monsters lived to feast on her once she laid her delicate head down to sleep. She found nothing.

She had lost herself.

Presently, she stood under the shower head, glass door closed and bathroom door locked. She wouldn't risk someone interrupting the only alone time she was actually permitted to have, keeping an ounce of dignity left with her. Many times she figured it was hidden away with her spirit in the shadows of the building.

Getting pelted with ice cold water droplets reminded her of the time she stood by the front door of her house watching lightning strike in the distance, brightening the darkness of the night as a terrible hurricane passed through her town one summer. She thought about sneaking out and running though the rain, to feel the chill of cold rain freezing her skin, causing her body to shiver in response. It was her way to finally feel something as so long of not knowing what emotions were anymore, but she felt the heavy presence of a man watching her from some where in the house. It buried her soul deeper within her and raised the strength and power the demon had over her when she began to rationalize why she couldn't frolic in the rain. If it was anything like ice cold showers, she was already numb to the feeling so the concentration of wind against the wetness of her clothes and hair sticking to her skin didnt seem to make much of a difference. It didn't seem worth it to be under further supervision, to have less power if it was even possible.

She felt her body involuntarily shiver under the cold until she became bored of her pathetic convulsions. She opened the glass door smoothly, making sure little noise was made after she lowered the water, made it steaming hot for a few moments to make the room warm up and turned off the water. She figured her father knew her tricks. She knows her father isn't a stupid man, but she still takes the extra moments to do what she wants. It seems her small actions were accepted by her demon since it helped to hide its presence further.

She stepped out as she wrapped one towel around her hair then another one, thicker, around her chest. She held the thicker one tightly, not trusting it to hide her faulty physique. She stood dripping on the tile floor for a few minutes, staring wearily between the mirror and the locked door. The door was perfectly white, the silver doorknob glistening. Staring at the lock on the doorknob still made her awestruck. She thought her father didn't trust her one bit after everything she has done to herself.

She gulped down saliva, trying to moisten her throat, to eradicate the large lump in her throat. She licked her chapped, probably purple lips. It was time to face the mirror. She hastily walked to stand in front of the counter, the mirror hanging over the sink. Her small, bare feet grew heavy with each step. Her breathing became uneven and husky. Stars started clouding her vision. She wasn't sure she'd be able to make it alive.

She sighed when she reached the counter. It was a milestone for sure but she needed to look up, to stare the demon in the eye, but it was hideous, so much so she's vomited many times just catching a glimpse of it. As she raised her eyes she noticed a razor blade sitting on the edge of the counter beside the sink. She grasped it tightly in her hand as the doorknob turned and the door opened.

Her heart stopped. She watched the girl staring back go pale, chocolate eyes blaming her. She forgot her father had a key when she took too long to ready herself.

"Darling."

Her father cautiously entered the room, taking his place behind her. He lovingly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her petite frame against his large structure. He placed a hand over hers holding the razor and removed it, dropping it to the ground. The clatter echoed in her ears.

She began to shake violently as tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She wanted to cry, but the demon wouldn't let her. She was so tired, hungry and empty.

"You're so beautiful, darling."

She believed she finally saw a glimpse of her spirit.