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Trapped in My Head as Punishment
3 months ago · · Stress,
I’ve stared into this blank window for years. All the time spent, wasted looking through a voided sheet meant to torment me. I never saw a reflection, I never saw through, I never knew why it was here. I would spend days polishing and shining something that would never be visible. Something that would never be good enough, the reason eluded me.
Every day there was another speck of dirt, dust, making the glass have an undesirable appearance. Every day there was a new fracture, a cut, making my eyes sore to look at. I’ve spent myself onto this sheet, scraping away at nothing. Scraping until my fingernails broke, falling off my weak fingertips. Instinctively I raised my hands, placing them upon the glass above me. I shoved my chin into my chest in defeat, rolling my hands into a partial fist letting the fragile skin of my fingertips hold the cold glass.
I looked up to see something beautiful, yet disturbing. For once I stared at something other than the wall of glass. Blood. I saw blood. The blood from my fingertips followed each fracture making a tree of red on a pasture of emptiness. I refused to see anything other than the painting I created.
I knelt down, letting my hands fall to the floor. I closed my eyes, resting my sore nerves. Peeling my eyes open I noticed that in the blood there was a reflection. A vision? Was that me I saw? I reached my hand out towards the maroon tree being careful not to touch it. The reflection followed in movement. He was disturbingly slower than any movement I made.
I smiled at the red boy sitting across from me. The expression on his face never phased. His gaze never broke off of me, never blinking, never letting me get a second of rest from his cold eyes. His eyes felt empty yet full of every emotion, as if it was a dam about to burst. We stared at each other for hours, days, weeks. Eventually I lost all account of time in the holes where his expression should be. Has it been a second, a month?
I grew complacent in the upkeep of the glass. I noticed an abundant number of fractures all centered towards the red boy. His face and body were distorted by the shattered glass. Although, I knew his gaze looked past what was broken. I stayed on the ground, knelt down not moving. I closed my eyes to rest.
Once I opened them I saw his face, his arms reaching out to me from my side of the glass. The red boy had merged from the fractured tree trying to reach me. I was shocked at the sight, but scooted closer to him. I reached for his hands as he was reaching for me. I placed my palm into his, our fingers locking in place.
I looked into the face of the red boy. I watched as he struggled to find emotion. Was he happy? Was he sad?
He was trapped, as I was trapped. I stared as long as I could remember into the glass. Did he do the same from the other side? Was he like me? Or was he, me?
I pulled on his arms bringing him closer to me. His distorted smile quickly fell into a frown as his head shook side to side. Ignoring him, I pulled harder on him.
The glass had shattered behind him in large shards as he fell to the floor in front of me. Like the glass, the red boy shattered once he touched the floor. The blood splattering across the knife like shards. I had backed away in fear of being caught in the falling glass.
The loud banging crash rang in my head over and over. I looked down at the shattered glass seeing the red boy in every piece. He reached out his hand making the floor look like a valley of roses. I smiled as the red boy forced his way out of his prison. The harder he tried the more the glass shattered. Each piece breaking into smaller and smaller bits.
My smile was taken away as I watched pieces of him fall apart. I sat there frozen not knowing what I could do. After struggling only three pieces of glass were large enough to let him out. Three red boys stood over me, expressionless and cold. They each took hold of the prison they escaped from and knelt down next to me.
The two on my side forcefully grabbed my wrists. They pushed my body to the floor, their gaze never leaving me. The red boys all raised their knife of glass to the sky. I stared in shock at the boy in the middle as they plunged their knives in my forearms.
It felt as if time had slowed down, their blades falling like a leaf towards my skin. Yet there was nothing I could do, I refused to move. I winced as the tip of their blades found their way through my skin. They pulled out their knives and watched the fountain of blood spurt out of my arms.
They forced my head to look at the branches of blood they’ve made from my arms. I tried to look towards at least one of the boys, but I was too weak. The back of my head met the floor, forcing me to stare at what was above me. A window. Another empty window to obsess over, to clean, to maintain. Just to snap and break away.
I was trapped. From the beginning to end, I was trapped.