She became wrapped in the dialogue that was swooning around covering her frail frame. Watching them while her eyes glassed over with the sullen desire to be told — at least once. Words collected into her mind as the images continued to receive compliments. Pleasant words filled the air beautiful, radiant, gorgeous, perfect, amazing body, lovely eyes, and wonderful pouty lips covering her neurons with the wanting. Searing into her psyche tattooing her plump beating heart with “If only I…”
“What are you staring at now?” He shook his head at her, blasting her with an eye roll before she could answer.
“Don’t start your crap again — I don’t want to hear it.”
“I am not saying anything I never do.” unloading her heart into the air.
“See you later, we’re going out.”
Leaving her alone in the quiet apartment, the conversation swelled in her thoughts. Her head was in a wrestling match as other conversations crashed into one another. The great council gathering in the huge courtroom, condemning before any witnesses had given a testimony. “You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you. If you chose to remain silent all of your non-verbal communications will be used to convict you.” People proved guilty before the silence even rang from their hollowed eyes.
Sitting back in the old, squishy sectional, she giggled at the 1980′s feel. Black, with pink and blue pin stripes — you take what you can on slightly above minimum wage. It was a free treasure after all – thrown into the wastelands. Sinking slowly into her only form of comfort a smile filled her cheeks at its acceptance. Blue and pink lines giggled at their own silliness, they had no problems with how lovely they were. They were quite confident in their surroundings. The black material encompassing them enhanced their loveliness and caused them to shine — it never took away.
Hearing their gaiety fill the room she bent down closer, rubbing her finger across the tiny stripes. She was collected in the enjoyment of adoration that sprung from the surrounding hugs of black mesh. Calling her in closer and closer her eyes caught the one strand stitch of black thread that caressed every blue and pink stripe all along their vertical slim lines. Each fiber coddled in warmth of sweet admiring threads. Escaping in being an observer of purity and rightness, the wails from the table began to attack her ears.
Splashes of tears crashed on the floor, the pages flew all about the coffee table. Arms, legs, lips, eyes, bodies screeching, horrific words stabbing at her flesh.
“This isn’t me! This isn’t me!”
“I can never live up!”
“They will all leave me when the paint drips off!”
“I am worthless!”
The ether of her existence started convulsing at the drenching terror, while the pages tore and ripped at themselves raging words spewed out vehemently.
“Must be the right size!”
“Must keep him attracted to me!”
“Must keep them for my self-worth!”
I am only valuable if they see me like this!”
On and on the words covered the walls. Poured over her flesh, filled the floor swimming into a black, sticky, creeping tar. Her shell curled up on the couch, swallowing deeper into the nectar of cushions. As her eyes raced looking at the swamp coming after her, and then to the kindness of the couch. Pupils darting back and forth, rising in her bowels flares of defense. Rage tore open her soul as she howled “NO!”
“NO, NO, NO!”
Clasped shut with fear and courage the sounds started to settle. Opening her eyes, all seemed well. Still the tears and muffled sounds of whimpering souls vibrated on the coffee table. Caressing the couch, she lay down in the swooping arms. Longing to be a strand of blue or pink tailored into the affections they had. Their beauty glowing represented, admired — never tainted. They were properly placed filaments in the folds of loving twine. Garb embellished with amity. Gushing with self-assurance from mutual affinity. Up and down the rubbing of this perfect fabric caused peace to flood her body.
Gentle soft droplets filled the foam — the warm soaked spot burned her face. The terrors though softer tried to grab at her. Muted sounds of cries soured her stomach and she wished she could do something to help them all. After several hours, they finally stopped. Her eyes crusted, and the simpatico of the couch brought calm. Methodically, she pulled herself away from the mold that had embraced her body. She rose to her feet. Walked into the kitchen — the front door opened. Her heart sank.
“What did you do?” With anger lashing into her, back.
“What did you? You are insane! What the hell is wrong with you?”Spit attacking her flesh with each word.
Puzzled eyes she looked at him and asked: “What are you talking about?”
He said nothing, but pointed to the coffee table. She stood in disbelief at all of the magazines torn, shredded, frayed, ripped, staggered, half laying on the floor wet, and the other strewn in various places. Gasping with fear, staring at the mess and then at him — no words could form. The couch called radiating a shadow of clarity. Muffled chaos covered her in confusion for a moment. Finally, able to shake off the dust that had settled on her, gaining self-control her sharp eyes looked into his carcass and said: “I’m done.”
Shrouded in a cloak of black her light glowed as she walked out the door.