Undamaged Reality

The mirror went first with a solid crash; she had never felt herself looking as ugly as she did in that moment. The bottles of lotion and hair gel, the decorative seashells and tissue box, the soap canister – everything went to the floor in one fluid sweep of the arm. The shark teeth and small cheap portraits on the walls were flung across the room with a force worthy of a marine heavily armed with grenades and vengeance. The medicine cabinet went after that - its innards strewn across the room. There was only one thing left standing: the shower. The fogged plastic doors were no match, they were kicked from their rails, cracked and broken.

But they didn’t see any of that. They only heard it, it wasn’t the sound of crashing and breaking as much as it was the sound of materialized rage. The door had been locked. The rage had stopped before they reached it. The calm from inside was the most frightening of all. There was a knock and a quick name called out. When no answer came, the next sound was that of the wood splintering, the lock torn from its hinges.

But she didn’t hear any of that. When they found her she was calmly resting in the bathtub, lying over the collapsed shower doors as though they didn’t exist. The warm water trickled through her hair, over her shirt and pants and shoes. She was smiling when they found her, her left hand swaying loftily over the drain, entrancing her as she watched.

They didn’t yell. They wanted to. But they didn’t understand what was going on.

The silence settled over the damage like hundred-year-old dust.

 They wanted to speak, but didn’t know what to say. They were enraged and confused, but it was all muffled by a certain sense of pity that kept them quiet and stunned.

“You can see the lights.” She spoke so softly that she was nearly drowned out by the sound of the water pouring over her.

They leaned in to her. She smiled at her dancing hand and said again, “the lights, watch them dance…the sunshine is playing….”

They glanced at each other. It was night time and there were no lights and no dancing.

She pushed herself to her knees so quickly they nearly toppled over to avoid their faces smashing. “YOU CAN SEE THE WORLD!”

Her pupils were as big around as walnuts, or so it seemed with her so close to their faces.

“LOOK! LOOK! LOOK!” She leaned over the drain and peered down it.

They peeked over the edge; there was nothing but a drain, slightly moldy from lack of proper cleaning.

“You can see it. There’s the hills and the giant rabbits and the Tree.  It’s sunny and there’s people all dancing the tango and the mambo and the cha-chi-cha-chi and….the…man with the white coat is giving everyone something. I WANT IT! Whs hs I hwan it n de av it n I wn it don hv t”

Her words grew to mumbles, angst in every syllable. She began pushing her fingers into the drain, “I WANT INSIDE! I WANT TO DANCE! WANT IT WANT IT WANT IT WANT IT WANT IT!!!!” There was a desperate attempt to pull the drain open wider and fit inside, but the only prize she won was the muck on her fingers.

She looked up pleadingly asking them for help.

She paused, staring at them, and whispering as quietly, “jack hammer…”

She began to scramble out of the bathtub running over them, soaking them with luke warm shower water. They grabbed her and held her to the ground. In her attempt to break away, her last attempt at freedom, she sliced her arms and legs on the mirror strewn over the ground.

She flipped onto her back screaming that there were too many snakes. They held her down as she sobbed and screamed.

She went limp, staring at the ceiling.

They let go and tended to their own wounded elbows and knees hoping the struggle was over.

She was quiet, the water from her clothes turned the room into a large bloody puddle. A tear ran down her cheek.

Her arm raised slowly, her hand open, welcoming the ceiling.

Curiosity made them look, but there was nothing but a ceiling, beige and moist with condensation.

“There.”