Slice. I couldn't feel it. Deeper, maybe? Slice, slice. Yes, definitely felt it then.
Red drops landed on the white sheet I had laid out, protecting my quilt from getting stained. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes as the knife trembled in my hand. Tears of pain? Tears of anger? Happiness? Even after this long, I still wasn't sure.
I'm a cardinal. I'm a cardinal. Do what cardinals do.
Of course, no one else noticed the cardinals. We were halfway through late spring, and still no one noticed the cardinals. No one except me. I noticed the cardinals. I have always been. I was a cardinal, the cardinals were me, there was no point where I ended and they began.
A lot of cardinals die during late spring. They see their reflections in the windows of houses and think it's an enemy bird. They attack. Try to defeat that enemy bird that always got hurt whenever they did. I sometimes try to imagine what goes on through their heads.
Just die already, you rotten vermin! Screw food! Screw water! No, I don't want my beauty sleep! I wanna kill this creature! DDDDIIIIIEEEEE!!!!!!
The cardinals don't stop for anything. Not to eat. Not to drink. Not to get rest. They just keep attacking, attacking, attacking. Pecking away at the glass, day after day after day, trying to kill that enemy bird. An enemy bird that's not there. An enemy bird that doesn't exist.
I guess I should've known what would happen next the first time I witnessed that.
The cardinals die.
Slice, slice, slice.
Peck, peck, peck.
Do you understand what I mean when I say I'm a cardinal now?
Cardinals have their beaks. I don't have a beak. I have a knife. That's good enough.
Cardinals have windows, glass that shows them their reflection. I have windows, but I already know that the person staring back is me. I have my skin, though.
Every night.
I'm a cardinal.
***
My wake-up call?
"VIVIAN ROSE, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE OR YOU'LL BE LATE TO SCHOOL!"
Mary-Anne. In other words, mother. I don't think of her as my mom, though.
"VIVIAN ROSE!"
"I'm coming!" I scream back. "God, can anyone get some quiet time around here?"
I wrap my usual bands around my wrists. Reason one: they look sick. Make me look tough. They send out a vibe to others that I'm not one to mess with. At least, that's what I hoped. They're kinda failing these days. Reason two: they cover up the marks I leave.
A good tip: If you want people to stay away, apply heavy, black eyeliner. Gives you that bad girl look. Also mascara. Another tip: Don't smile at people. If you ever do, make it look sarcastic. Glare at anyone who makes eye-contact with you or gets too close. That's a good way to cover up what's inside and prevents any secrets from being heard by unwanted ears.
Mary-Anne plops a cold McDonalds bag in front of me. It tips over on the scarred table. "Found that under my car seat," she says while picking her teeth with one hand and holding a beer in the other. "Forgot I had that."
"Gee, thanks," I say. "Always wanted kidney nuggets for breakfast."
Mary-Anne gives me a weird look. "I already ate the nuggets. And half the burger. No, most of the burger. You get the fries."
