"Overbearing" is only a single way to describe my mother. Her bedazzled war-gowns say a lot about her, but so does her decision to curse our people and the citizens of Camelot.
The prim and proper princess you imagine I am, exists, but is hidden...
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I glare at the timid orderly. His glasses slip down his nose, while the tip of it gleams, and the polished thing makes me chuckle. Considering where I am, it only makes the new and inexperienced young man shakily land my food on the tray at the center of the room. Bored, I look away from the kid as he leaves, out the barred window. Today is crisp, with mist exhaling from the grass.
"You should eat today." The voice in the corner of the room, eerily familiar to me, states with authority. I blink at the empty angle of my padded cell. I study outside again.
"I don't feel like rabbit food today, thanks."
"You are wasting away in here. The more you refuse to eat, the more they have cause to keep you longer." He decided to show his face at last. Lunch is the hardest for him to feel motivated to become visible to me. "You hate it when they sit here until you stuff your face, why put yourself through it again?"
"I've been thinking," I chuckle as if I made a joke. "Maybe I actually belong here. Maybe I like having a solitary box all to myself."
"On exception of nurses shining a flashlight on your eyes every hour?"
"Yes." Distracted, I notice a yellow Volkswagen Beetle park near the curb. An exceptionally rare groan in my stomach breaks between our conversation. I hold my belly in astonishment. I haven't felt hungry since...ever really. The man in the corner rolled on the floor, laughing.
"Oh, don't go thinking I want to eat the car!" I yell at him, annoyed at his antics. Minutes pass by as I attempt to plug my ears; he refuses to stop. I can still hear his shrieks. I rush towards the tray of salad and grab a handful of leaves drenched in Dorothy Lynch dressing. I even take my pills, swallowing them whole. A guzzle of stale water, and I throw the plastic cup onto the floor.
"There, I ate something, happy?" The laughing diminishes the second the lock on the door clinks. I stand there with dark dressing all over my face and a water-soaked pantleg. I roll my eyes when my daily therapist struts in, and lick all the flavor from my fingers. The woman's eyes dart towards the mess I made. I ignore the pensive grin she gives me, and lay back down on my stiff little bed, curled away from her.
"I'm glad to see you enjoyed your meal, Teagan," I hear her nyloned legs rub against each other as she takes a seat in the weighted chair, and can almost see her shimmering raspberry lipstick curve upward towards my back. My lips tighten in frustration before I sit up with ferocity.
