Tears In The Darkness

Four

I woke up in a stiff ball. I stretched out on the hardwood floor. My gaze landed on the white ceiling and the elegant crown molding that ran along the perimeter of the room. But my discomfort was not what woke me. What caused me to wake up in the star lit morning was need. I jumped up. I dug through drawers. I sifted through jars in the kitchen. I checked underneath the bathroom cabinet. I was a madwoman.

"Where is it?!" I shrieked and slammed another fruitless drawer shut.

I began to get angry. I heard Mary stirring across the hall. She carefully opened the door of her bedroom.

"I know what you're looking for," she drawled.

My eyes glinted with anger and I felt it reach my fingertips.

"Mary. Give it to me, it's mine!" I cried.

"No, Tennessee! Forgive me for not willingly giving you your drugs!" she yelled angrily.

I let out another shriek of frustration and tugged at the ends of my limp auburn hair.

"Please, please, please," I begged.

"No. You're getting help. This has been going on six months too long," she said. She had resolutely crossed her arms across her chest.

I gave her a withering look.

"I hate you," I spat.

"No," her eyes remained caring, "No, you don't."

I shoved past her and stalked to my room before slamming the door with an immense crash.

The Victorian wallpapered room didn't comfort me. I picked things up only to hurl them across the room, trying to create as much commotion as possible. I wanted everything to be as messed up as me. I needed to know that I could cause as much damage to the outside as I had on the inside.

No tears came, only anger and curses. I looked at the dusty mirror on my wardrobe. My figure seemed lost in the coating of filth that covered it. I slowly walked over to it and raised a pale, freckled hand forward to drag it across and see my reflection. Dust floated everywhere as the dirt was wiped with my fingers. The motes caught light, making rainbows. I marveled for a second before facing myself.

My face was sallow. It was unhealthy. I gasped at my eyes. Dark purple rings circled the hazel irises, making me look sick. My hair had lost its shine, and the red in it had faded into a dull shade of brown, caused by my seldom washes and lack of caring. I took a deep breath and turned around.

"That's not you, Tennessee," I reassured myself aloud, trying to will it to be true. I chanted the words over and over as I stepped tentatively into the empty hallway. I got a fluffy crème towel from the linen closet and entered the bathroom.

"That's not you, Tennessee," I whispered as I ran the hot water.

The steam billowed out into the bathroom and I undressed. My ratty flannel pajamas fell onto the white tiled floors and I ran a hand over my bare skin. I stepped into the hot shower. The water made me better. I felt warm and well. I wanted to wash everything out.

"This isn't you, Tennessee," I whimpered.

I finally willed myself to want to be better. I could not live like a fool. I couldn't be this person who was angry and depressed and made it my duty to be that way; to make sure everyone around me knew of my misery. I had worked so hard to be happy my entire life and I threw it away like a meaningless toy. I was willing myself to let go.

A long time later, long after the hot water ran out, I stepped out of the shower. The room was thick with steam and heat. The mirror had fogged up. I carefully put a hand up to the mirror and slowly dragged it across to create a window for my reflection.