Mercury

Twenty Five

Mercury sits cross legged on her bedroom floor, butterflies swarm her insides as she thinks of Dean. It was funny to think how much she despised him simply for who he even was, when now who he is is what she adores the most. She had texted Violet earlier to tell her about her day with Dean, which typically Violet distastefully replied emphasising how Joel was a better person. 

Sometimes the white-haired girl wished she stayed with Joel he did normalise her and turned her into the daughter her parents so much desired. He was stable, had a job and was ready to take her on lavish trips to france and so on. She knows every other girl would die at the thought to have an ideal boyfriend like that, but Mercury had always been different. Dean was trouble, chaotic, everything unstable.

He's irrational, irritatable, short-tempered, a criminal  everything that she desires. Dean was at the police station currently giving a statement on his whereabouts to the robberies that had taken place, at least the robberies she knew about. But something about his sudden class style adorned in rings that looked far more expensive than his old silver ones, fresh sneakers and mentioning something about wanting a gold tooth had the girl questioning just how much he stole. 

Rising from the floor the girl enters her bathroom, doing her nightly ritual of standing on top of the scale and grabbing the measuring tape that was placed next to the sink. Grabbing the yellow tape she wraps it around her small waist, her weight is the only thing she feels like she truly has control over. Glancing at the numbers she frowns deeply to herself in discontent. "Too fucking big", she couldnt understand how she could be satisfied with herself when she could only feel but not see the outline of her ribs. As if tracing her figure triggered a response as her stomach growls loudly. 

Exiting the bathroom the frail girl slips on her plain black crew neck t-shirt before pulling up her white sweats. Gripping her fingers through her hair she scolds herself, "you almost forget about dinner you fucking idiot." The resentment for herself bubbling inside as she makes her way down the spiralling staircase. Her heart almost stops beating and her lungs squeeze together tightly as she sees the combination of brown and grey hair ontop of a figure in the kitchen. 

There's never a day when the sight of her father doesn't almost break her down, like his presence has a hammer slowly making cracks in a wall till it collapsed. Making her way steadily into the open floor kitchen her father stands facing the counter, an ashtray emitting smoke and the sound of ice hitting a glass fills the kitchen. "Good evening, father." The girl shakily tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and makes her way to the glass cabinet. "Mercury..." He hums in acknowledgement as the sound of a cap being screwed on a bottle is heard. Every hair on her neck is standing up, she could feel the blood running through her vein, each heavy inhale that she takes as she prepares her dinner. Grabbing the bottle of freshly squeezed lemon juice she pours it into her glass. "Have you spoken to your mother today?" His voice is laced with concern as he watches his daughter grab the mineral water from the fridge before beginning to pour it into her glass. 

"No, perhaps she's still at work?"
Raising her glass to her lips she takes a sip of her dinner, the bitterness of the lemon taking over her tastebuds. "Well, I didn't realise you were on a diet."

"Oh,  i'm not..."
"Well you should be, in fact your mother should be too... She's almost your weight."
"I think she's fine, mother is quite healthy act-"

she sensed the action before she felt it, her cheek stinging and head swung to the side on impact. "Your mother and yourself  should have taken my advice earlier." Hand shaking she rose the glass to her lips as her father smiled at her softly as if he had asked her how her day was. She dared not to speak as he rose a cigarette to his lips, it made her think of Dean, yet there was nothing nice in the way her father did it. He looked cruel and venomous, it made her wonder if thats how she looked when she smoked, or did almost anything. 

FInishing her dinner she places the glass in the sink, dinner finished and ready for bed. "Goodnight father," she mutters softly before turning towards the exit of the kitchen. Her hair was yanked back roughly causing her back to hit the counter of the kitchen. She let out a cry of pain unsure whether she should grip her hair or her back from pain. "Mercury...Why did I let you use a nickname that is such an...anomaly? Simply to satisfy the angel that you used to be but your mother bared me this-this child." The grip on her hair was released as he headed towards the sink and dropped his glass in the sink, shattering it. 

She squeezes her eyes shut wanting to convince herself that it was a dream, a nightmare, that her father was the sleep paralysis demon in a black hat holding her down- suffocating her. She wanted to cry, to go ahead and cry so maybe her tears would write the words of pain that she would never be able to express. His voice was white noise static flooding her senses, "and this- this hair , we can wash it out. We can clean it Elizabeth, we can make you normal again..." Mumbling to himself her grips her wrist pulling her towards the sink, opening the faucet he forces her head into the basin filling the plug. She watches the pieces of glass around the edges as the water pushes some of the pieces up. He was baptising her, transforming himself from the devil to the god for her would purify her, normalise her. 

Head underwater and eyes shut water replaces oxygen flooding her nose. Struggling as her father mumbles above her she reaches her hand into the sink, glass pricking her soft hands she grabs the biggest piece she can grab onto before expaserdtly with the little energy she has left lifts it up behind her and stabs it aimlessly behind her. 

The grip on her head releases and her head limply lifts itself from the basin, coughing expaserdtly her hands struggle to grasp the counter, losing grip she lets her body collapse helplessly.

For she had been baptised.