She Feels The Pain
She feels the pain.
In long, languid strokes,
Pulsing, as if it has a life of it’s own.
And it’s angry.
Winding and twisting and black.
IT starts in her toes.
They curl, as though they are trying to escape.
This pain has long, thick and dull fingers that press in deep and tear at her very being.
Her ankles buckle and she gasps, panic embracing her heart like a long-lost mother who left you in a trashcan at a subway station, people whizzing by, not taking the time out of their day, for you.
Cold and Mistrust and Lies wrap around her brain like diluted acid chilled in the refrigerator of a serial killer’s apartment.
She reaches out stiffly for a supporting surface. There is nothing. Her panic increases, and her heart beats faster against her chest.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
Calves are cold and the black angry pain climbs up and up and up and up and up.
IT now develops a full hand and grasps her knees. Its middle fingers push deep into the back and she collapses and she falls with a
CRASH.
It doesn’t stop. It won’t stop. It will never stop. It wants what it wants. And that’s what it’s going to get.
The fingers lengthen and thin into sharp, tough vines into her thighs. Her eyes widen and she cries out in a hoarse whisper.
Like an overused child’s toy she has been abandoned, neglected and forgotten. She isn’t needed anymore.
She isn’t wanted. No one cares. The pain no longer creeps. It streams up into her hips, wrapping around her muscles, constricting them.
What did she do to deserve this? She feels as hopeless as Joseph and Potiphar’s wife. Trapped in a confusing, cold, and numbing prison and it’s
BLACK.
She curls into herself, only a strangled moan can pass from her lips aside from her short pants, her eyes screwed shut.
She can’t breathe, oh LORD HELP HER SHE CAN’T BREATHE. These vines turn into knives and a cleaver strikes her in her stomach as one of the
angry vines wraps around her diaphragm. Her nose is bleeding. Her legs are vibrating in pain, and her right hip is twitching.
She lays helplessly on the floor.
She feels the pain.
In short, fierce bursts,
Exploding, like fireworks,
And it’s Furious.
Short and swift and bright red.
It starts in her head.
Her eyes twist shut, as if trying to slam the door on this fury.
The pain has thick, authoritative fists that pound upon her, and bruise her very being.
Her lungs seize, as she groans, panic slowing into dread as realization dawns darkly, like a girl waiting for a father she knows will never come home.
Anger, Betrayal, and Maliciousness thump and stab into her eyes like dull daggers that had aged in the bottom of the dumpster in an alleyway, right next to the used and disease- infused syringes, splattered blood, and used condoms.
She tries to uncurl her arm from the fetal position but to no avail, it doesn’t work and now her heart slows, understanding washing over her like a wave, it is slower now
Thump, thump, thump….
She is burning hot as the sun in the sky that beats upon the black upholstery that a dog is stuck laying against with the windows closed, it has given up, and is waiting for his owner, that will be there a minute too late. It disperses all over her body and none of these muscles are her own. She has no control over her body, but she won’t let IT take her mind.
IT doesn’t stop. It won’t stop. It will never stop. It wants what it wants, and that’s what it’s going to get.
Or will it?
She is like a forgotten and abused teen girl left tied up in her straitjacket for four days, dazed and hallucinating, because they’ve forgotten food and of course, her drugs.
No one cares, No one will be there to help this helpless girl who is just crying out for some sort of mercy
Oh Lord, give me mercy please, this is too much and I cannot take it anymore.
What did she do to deserve this? Nothing, she tells herself. Therefore, IT can have her body, but IT can’t have her brain, her soul, her chi, her life, herself.
Her mind is hers, she will fight for that.
It will get better. Some days good, and some days bad.
All that matters is that you remember,
That you will feel the pain.
That IT will come for you too.
Are you ready?