Skye Evans.

Getting Better (Physically.)

      Lines streaked across the wooden floor. Dust and feathers drifted gently towards the floor. Accumulating into small piles. Not nearly as much as they used to. The ceiling of this room nonexistent, reaching up into the heavens. That's how it felt to the teenage girl, as she tried again and again to fly higher than a dozen yards off the ground. Only to be forced by the pressing talons of gravity to lower. Sweat poured down her face, her arms, her back. Soreness a familiar feeling in the recent weeks. And yet she tried once more. 

      Many days, it was not her who decided to quit training for the day, but the advisors that observed her from the sidelines. Their stance in the air effortless. The contrast between doctor and patient larger than the planet of Excavalon. And yet she would strive for it nonetheless. Who cares about getting burnt, as long as she could reach the sun? 

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      Higher. Higher. Thinner the air became. The wetness of clouds coating her skin as she shifted through them. Up, and down. A trail of feathers left behind, leaving her mark. A laugh so sweet, honeyed to the droopy ears of hers. 

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     It got dustier as she ascended. Little specks finding their ways into the undersides of her stormy hair. Dry, itchy, coating her arms. Sometimes even finding their ways into her mouth, when another limit was crossed, when she was getting closer to getting better. And yet how quickly did that cheer turn to a flaming hatred. 

     A hatred of many things. Of the one who did this to her. Of the time that must be taken. Of the large distance that was still between her and the goal she reached desperately for. Of her weakness. Of the scars that painted her skin and her feathers. Jagged lines, that would never disappear. That would always be there. 

      What day was it, after what session, did the glass shatter across the floor? Did she stand upon the clouds, thunder crackling beneath her feet, wings lowered to trail behind her. Did she scream out into the night, cursing all that exists? 

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     She saw it. Like she saw the frosty tips of the mountains, where the sparkling jewels reside, or the rooves of the cloud folk, where the bricks are built sturdy to withstand the raging storms. She saw the top of the room. Hundreds of feet above, untouchable in her current state. But she saw it. Before her wings gave out, and she plummeted. Like a meteor who got too close to a celestial star. 

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      What was she made for? To ingest another pill. To attend another session. To go along with whatever thing the world orchestrated for the day. Smile, laugh, act as though those chemicals didn't come from a medicine she picked up every week. When would she know? Who could know? She swallowed. 

      Get better. Act happy. That's what the world needed from her. That's what her body needed from her. And that's what she needed from herself. Soon, this comet would crash. The crater left larger than her ambitions. 

•༄──────✧༄✦༄✧──────༄•

     'Up, UP!'  Words so loud they couldn't form physically. Lean arms flailed, trying desperately to even skim the hardened top wall. Nails dug into the airy form of the wind carpet that caught her. Into her skin. Again. She'd try again. Again. 

      Over and over and over. Until she was pushed out of that crummy room. Left to her own devices. To push herself. To ultimately fail. Until the next appointment. To slam her hand against the wall of their empty room. With no one to hear her struggles. The ones she buried deep, under tanned, strained skin. Kept under folds of muscles that were meant to make up for the weakness that she just couldn't eradicate.

•༄──────✧༄✦༄✧──────༄•

      Cold wooden floorboards supported a heaving figure. Down on her hands and knees, vision blurring the brown, marbled streaks. Mouth agape to take in as much air as possible. Longer hair falling over her shoulders, obscuring her face. The cheers of her physical therapists dim, bouncing off her damp skin. A shaking hand was lifted, stare burning into the palm. The fingers. The ones that had just contacted the top of the ceiling, had held it there for several seconds. 

     She had done it.