Make it Stop

Help Me

Louise sat motionless at the kitchen table. The budding morning sun was shining through the sliding doors of the back porch. With detached intrigue, she studied the way the luminescence hit varying objects in the room. The reflective chrome of the coffeemaker, the empty cranberry juice jug that nobody bothered to get rid of. As she regarded everything the sun was delicately touching with it's dainty fingers, her eyes found their way outside, peering across the lush yard that her father worked so hard to maintain. She knew what was there much before her eyes had found the courage to focus in on it.

The mere sight of the House was enough to wrench her stomach in disgust. She compelled her eyes to turn elsewhere, fearful of what may happen if she looked a second longer. Her mind was adrift in thought, making Louise unsure of where to start. Who do I tell? Would anybody even believe me? Should I just leave? She ran her lithesome fingers through her hair, damp with sweat and shame. It placed her mind back in the night before, made her remember his thick, calloused fingers weaving in and out of the very same dusk colored locks. This remembrance prompted her fingers to grasp her hair, pulling it every which way. The twinge of discomfort grounded her in reality, made her alive in the moment.

Hurry Dad, I need you.

Louise stood up from the kitchen table, her skin and bones bathed in agony. Her feet on the cold hardwood floor made her quaver all the more. She sauntered down the hallway towards her bathroom, taking disjointed steps as she went. The cold light the bathroom emitted made the sun seem so far away. She began pulling off her sweater, hesitating with each tug of the sleeves. The skin on her wrists was raw, emanating pain all through her arms as she lifted the sweater over her head. Louise couldn't bare the sight of herself; her skin was pasty, the bright red bite marks on her breasts made her cringe. She slid off her sweatpants hastily, eager to clean herself. The carmine colored stains on her undergarments caused her to dry heave. She stepped into the shower and turned on the faucet, letting the gelid water stream down her body. The water slowly turned warm, the temperature change sending an almost pleasant sensation down her spine. The first morsel of relief she had felt. The slightly exposed flesh on her wrists were aflame as the water cleansed them; it made the water a light crimson. Louise ran her quaking hands over her body, in an attempt to clean herself; but she could feel it, the candor of knowing that the real stain was inside her, and that it would not be as easy to clean. Once she felt eerily content with herself, she buckled and fell down, crying.

Somewhere inside herself, Louise had found the gumption to pick herself up and get out of the shower. She dried herself gingerly, careful not to rub her wrists or breasts with too much fervor. She took the towel and wrapped her dripping hair in it, and made her way to her room. The sunlight shone in through her window as she walked inside, making the dark pink walls look that much more so. Her cell phone was on the bed, the reflection of the sun through the screen hurt her eyes. She picked up the phone and pressed the lock screen, only to find that the phone was dead, and had probably been as such since last night. Louise fumbled with the charger cord for a few moments before finally getting it inside the phone. As the phone booted up, Louise began putting on a new pair of sweatpants and a t shirt she had gotten from band earlier that year. The shirt was coarse, rubbing against her aching breasts; she did her best to ignore it and clutched at her phone with her fidgety fingers. She pressed the lock screen once more, praying that it would finally illuminate and provide her with some semblance of an answer. The screen lit up, immediately alerting Louise that she had 13 missed calls, and 3 unread messages. She looked at the calls first, seeing that 12 were from her friend, Kate, and one was from Dad. Louise impelled her fingers to make the correct swiping movements to get to her messages, seeing that two were from Kate, and one from Dad.

She looked to see what her Dad had said first, “Hey sweetie just reminding you that I get back tomorrow so just make sure you clean up the place a bit. I'll see you soon.”, The message was sent at 8:29 PM. Louise then went to Kate's messages, “So are we still on tonight? Is your neighbor giving us the hookup?”, Reading Kate's message prompted Louise to hug herself violently, shaking back and forth on her bed. She took a few deep breaths and steeled herself. She read on, “Lulu where the hell are you? We're outside waiting! If you aren't here soon we're just gonna go back to Sam's.” Louise gripped the phone tightly, the edges of it digging into her fingers.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Louise walked back down the hall and into the kitchen; she wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for, but she sought it out nonetheless. Feverishly rifling through the drawers and cupboards of the kitchen, she found what she was looking for. In the cabinet to the right of the oven, Louise had found a knife set that her Mom had purchased after seeing the infomercial on them. She remembered the man in the infomercial boasting that the knives could cut through just about any other household product. Louise didn't stop to wonder why her mother's knives were still there, even after she was long gone, she grabbed the sharpest one she could find and made for the sliding glass door. Louise grasped the hilt of the knife fiercely, so much so that her trembling hand became steady. She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and saw flashes of the night before, replaying the incident in her head. She exhaled, opened her eyes, and flung the sliding glass door open. The cold morning dew clung to her sweatpants, making them heavy as she trekked across the yard. She saw the House again, ominously towering over her. Louise maintained a brisk pace as she felt the grass change into paved stones underneath her feet, paving the way to the back door of the House, almost daring her to walk in. The morning sun was just high enough to rise above the House, bathing the sage green backdoor in warm sunlight.

She stopped dead at the door, her jaw so taut that it hurt her teeth. She put her hand on the gold doorknob, it felt frosty and wrong.

Help me.

Louise raised the knife as she turned the knob, allowing the sunlight to hit the blade. She like the way the sun looked on it the best.