Speculo

VII

Elis stared at the small yellow light on the inside of the microwave. The plate moved around. And around. And around. Tireless thing. Maybe Elis should be a microwave plate. turning around and around and around and never stopping, never getting tired. It dinged and she jumped but she didn't open it. She let it carry out its noise making, it had earned it. It deserved to not be silenced.
"ALESSANDRA TURN OFF THE DAMN MICROWAVE!" she fumbled for the button hitting her knuckle on the counter on the way up. Her taught body relaxed as she relished the pain as it slowly trailed up her hand. Once there was pain it got better. Pain was a promise. An easy one to keep, because The pain comes when the thing causing it is finished. She pulled the cup off the microwave plate and gingerly set the hot ceramic down on the counter. It's contents swirled and bubbled, maybe two minutes had been too long. It's hard to tell with certain things. A lot could happen in two minutes, two minutes could feel like forever. Some things took only seconds. she stared. Her mother stomped into the small kitchen and bumped Elis to the side as she made her way to the fridge. Elis's hand bumped the hot cup of liquid and it slipped from the counter to shatter on the floor, spraying her feet with scalding coffee. She ducked before the slap came but not strategically enough to avoid the counter. Her mother's hand whooshed through the air where her head had been and her cheek glanced off the sharp edge. Seconds. It had taken seconds for her mother to leave yet another proofed mark that damage takes as little time as a microwave timer, and even less provocation.
"now look what you did by being a dramatic little bitch" her mom stomped out of the kitchen. "clean that up". She had planned on it thanks. Her face throbbed where it had hit and she could feel the headache that would come with it. She grabbed a paper towel and held it over her cheek while she picked the shards of glass from the floor and made up a story for the cut in her head. She fell off her bike. You can do better than that Elissandra. She ducked so that her mom didn't hit her and ended up smashing her own face into the counter? That would be funny. Maybe she could laugh as though she was joking. It was scary how much pain could be played off as a joke. She knocked a cup off the counter in a act of general clumsiness and hit her cheek on the way down to pick it up. Its strange the way a wound calls a heartbeat to parts of you that never feel it. She knew that Every good lie was weaved with a twisted truth, and yet sometimes she wanted to stop lying, but she didn't. She scooped the last bit of glass off the floor and threw it into the waist in before leaving the kitchen and snuck up the stairs to the safety of her room. Her cheek hurt smartly and she knew then that it would bruise like hell. She smiled a little to herself. Pain was a promise, an easy one to keep.