'Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.'
-Stephen King
The girl stands in the pure, white bathroom, hunched over the sink, head bowed as if vomiting. Or in prayer. Her shoulders are shaking, her body wracked with sobs that refuse to escape her throat. She raises her head to the mirror, coming face-to-face with a pale underweight creature with make-up running down its face; the day's attempt to look as not-ugly as possible.
This...thing, this is not her. She is the plump, rosy-cheeked, grinning girl picking strawberries in the dust-covered photo hanging above the seat where her father used to sit. She is the winner of the 3rd grade spelling competition trophy that is sitting, abandoned on the bookcase, its gold paint peeling. She is the rider of the worn rubber swing hanging from the elm tree in the overgrown garden, greying from disuse.
But she is not that girl anymore. Now she is the girl whose spine juts fiercely against the pale, paper-thin skin of her back. The girl who wears long sleeves in warm weather. The girl whose once-warm brown eyes are dark and empty. This girl in the bathroom, the girl in the mirror, is an empty shell; the once innocent and care-free child driven out by the monsters that inhabit her mind.
The monsters she's sick of fighting.
The empty pill bottle clatters to the floor as pale, too-fragile, red gashed arms collapse under the weight of the shell of a girl too weak to continue the battle to survive. She lies there, that shell, as the welcome fog of darkness begins to claim her sight, as the sounds of the mortal world fade and the feeling leaves her limbs. As her eyes flutter closed and her heart stutters to a stop and her thoughts slip away...
The girl who lost to the monsters was finally at peace; her body lay still in the quiet of the bathroom. Soon enough, her mother would find her, and she would scream and scream, torn apart by the physical loss of the daughter who had been dead inside for a long time. Soon the gentle peace of the silent death would be broken. But, for now in the broken girl's world, for the first time in forever, all was well.
xxx
So yeah, that was a quick little thing I wrote in about 10 minutes this evening and holy hell was wayyyy more angsty than I meant it to be...oh well.
Tip: don't write suicide scene things late at night when you haven't slept for over 24 hours... ;P
Hope you enjoyed...or...well...liked? Appreciated?
xxx
