A Little Bit of Grace (excerpt)

                Mia Stone peered into the bassinet with wide eyes as her thoughts careened senselessly and her emotions jumped from place to place at dizzying speed.  Elation.  Fear.  Awe.  Fear.  Joy.  Fear.  What in God’s name had she gotten herself into now?  Forty- five years old and a two week old baby girl sleeping peacefully with tiny puckered perfect lips in her possession.  Her empty nest suddenly contained this exquisite little hatchling.  Her breasts were not dripping milk day and night as they had following the births of her three sons.  In fact, they were nothing but completely dry, useless, rather large bits of sagging flesh, a cause for embarrassment if she caught a glimpse of them in the mirror, something she avoided doing whenever possible.  She longed to feel  the soreness from engorgement, the tingling in her nipples that signaled feeding time was nigh.  Instead, this baby had to be fed from a bottle, fed chemicals, Mia thought despairingly every time she teased the plastic nipple between the baby’s grasping lips.  It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, but it was the best she could do this time around.  This child was not of her loins and yet, and yet!, somehow she still belonged to Mia.

Re: First Nano source of excitement

I love it, Ayla. Feels like the start to something I'd definitely read more of …

Re: First Nano source of excitement

this excites me too ayla
(way more than that comment to Tom, which I admit had me going for a minute)

~ hugs! big ones!

Re: First Nano source of excitement

oh this is very good, Ayla. Such wonderful sensuous details (drooping loofah sponge from the little plastic hook held in place by a grubby looking piece of plastic suction cup).

I could in fact have slowed down even more. Especially the first bit of scrubbing. For some reason that bit seemed to go too quickly, suddenly the bath water was cold.
So much that I loved - the description of listening to the mother's moans (bring back embarrassing memories of my own)  And so much more - ”tub and I twinned in our state of dry emptiness”. And that prayer, sending shivers down my spine. I'm glad Amber's voice wants to be heard. I want to listen.
xo

Re: First Nano source of excitement

Day Seven -
   Sunlight peeked hesitantly through a crack in the gauzy curtains hanging from the bedroom window, gently nudging Mia awake.  She opened her eyes, reluctantly, sleepily studying the Dust Brownies twirling merrily to and fro in the weak shaft of soft gold.  As always, her eyes shifted to the windowsill, it was like biting down on a sore she found on her tongue, unpleasant but impossible to resist.  The windowsill she had so carefully and painstakingly painted with three coats of eggshell white paint just two short months ago had already began to peel, the ugly dark brown wood below staining the creamy surface like ragged smears of shit.  She sighed.  All that work for nothing.  The windows were positively filthy, dust and dirt caught between screen and glass along with at least a hundred dead flies.  Baby – Grace, Grace, her name is Grace, Mia scolded herself –was gone, so there would be plenty of time to clean windows, to vacuum the hated flies away, paint window sills, and yet Mia, turning her back from the mess, knew that she wouldn’t do it.  Not today.  Probably not tomorrow or any time soon either. She didn’t care, not really, not about the dirty window, not about anything at all.  She would spend this day missing Baby – Grace – too much to allow anything else in.  She missed her smell, the slightly sour smell of formula trying, but unable,  to mask the scent of Baby herself, so new and so fresh, that smell so fleeting , the smell of a new soul or was it the smell of an old soul in a new body,  so pleasing, like puppy breath.  She missed her mousy squeaks, the feel of that sparse fluff of white hair under her palm, silky and astonishingly soft, the skull itself smaller than Mia’s own small hand, the minute pulsing of life making itself known through the fontanel, a terrifying softness and vulnerability there that reminding Mia of the mandatory vigilance necessary to keep Baby safe, the navy blue of her eyes and the thin minuscule eyelashes that framed them.  Mia dove back under her leaky down comforter, tiny feathers of down racing up to dance with the Dust Brownies, and closed her eyes, willing sleep to return.                                            &
(the following is completely out of sequence …I seem to be writing my story backwards)
Laughter floated from the barn, drawing Mia from her task of mulching the flower beds, a good excuse to take a break.  She walked into the dim of the barn, pausing to let her eyes adjust as she pulled off her gardening gloves, stuffing them into the back pocket of her Levi's.  The smell of good leather, horse manure, and sweet hay greeted her, welcomed her.  She inhaled deeply, smiling, thinking, this is the smell of Rich, I love this smell, I love this man.

“I really love your hair, Rich. I wish my hair was curly like that.”
Mia stiffened.  When had Rich become Rich rather than Mr. Stone?  Amber still refused to call Mia anything other than Mrs. Stone, if she even bothered to talk to her at all.  No, it was all Mr. Stone this, Mr. Stone that as Amber had begun spending more and more time with Rich and the horses, slamming her way out of the front door in a mad rush for the yawning red doors of the barn thevery minute  she finished cleaning. Cleaning, the reason, the only reason, she was supposed to be here on Saturday mornings anyway.  Mia admonished herself for her uncharitable thoughts.  They lived in a small town and as small towns go, there were no secrets.   Amber was growing up in a nice little ranch style house in town, a white picket fence house, but behind closed doors lay ugliness and violence.  Her mother was often seen sporting ugly bruises up and down her arms and wearing too much make- up that did little to cover the swellings and discolorations on her face.  No wonder Amber found such solace in the horses.  Anyone who knew anything about horses knew that they were therapeutic for your soul.  Still, Mia shamefacedly side-stepped behind a stack of hay bales, peering around, eavesdropping, spying.  She tried to chide herself, Amber, was a child for God’s sakes.  Still something about the husky slightly breathless way that “child” was speaking to her husband riled her, sparking little green embers of warning.  That “child,” while not exactly eye-candy, the kind of girl every man would want to fuck and display on his arm as a badge of his virility, didn’t exactly fit into the category of the girl next door either.  There was a certain sultry quality that lurked beneath the surface of attractive, if not beautiful, sexy, if not exactly pretty.  Her face, still rounded with a touch of baby fat, had the kittenish allure that begged – notice me, look at me, save me, love me.  While her young body might be somewhat short in stature, almost petite, and while it might have even been said to have too much sturdiness in the thickness of the thighs for today’s impossible standards of willow-thin, the eye still naturally fell prey to the small pert breasts, so round and firm, like a navel orange and then down, down to the tiny waist, the washboard flat stomach.  And the girl had junk in the trunk, as they called it these days, and Mia, a woman with junk of her own, knew that men, at least her man, loved a nice round ass.  Mia shook her head.   She was being ridiculous.  She was being jealous.  The girl was practically a picture of what she herself had looked like at sixteen.  She missed looking like that, that’s all it was, miserable middle aged wretch that she was fast becoming.  Rich would never – she was just a kid, younger than even their youngest child.
Still…Mia peeked peered around the hay stack.  Rich was busy brushing Ebony, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his back muscles flexing under a filthy white t-shirt.   And then, incredibly, she saw Amber reach out and gently wind a finger into one of his long curls.  Rich jerked his head away in surprise but Mia had already turned away and crept from her hiding place, face white, heart pounding.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he roared, “You cannot be serious.  You’re jealous of a Amber?  Of a kid?”
“I saw!  I saw her touch you.”
“Touch me.  When?  What are you talking about, Squirrel?”
“In the barn.  I came in and she was all ‘oooooh, I just love your hair, Rich, Richie baby, darling’ and then she started playing with it.”
Rich’s face went red, his fisted hands opening and offering themselves to her in supplication, “Mia ba bia, c’mon!  Did you also see me swat her hand away?  Did you happen to hear me tell her that I hate it when people play with my hair?”
“But you love it when people play with your hair.”
“Exactly!  And I don’t love it when people play with my hair, I love it when you play with my hair.  She’s sixteen years old!  What do you take me for, some kind of dirty old man, a pedophile?”
“She’s attractive.  She was flirting with you, Rich!”
“I think you’re right.  I do think she’s a cute kid and I do think she was flirting with me but it’s no different than how my own daughter used to flirt with me when she was that age.  Remember how Lacey used to do that?  It drove us both crazy but you read up on it and said it was natural, some kind of rite of passage bullshit.  Remember?”
“She’s not your daughter, Rich!  She’s a young woman, a young woman that I hired to clean my house, scrub my fucking toilets once a week, not play in the barn all day and chase my husband around.”
Rich laughed.  “So fire her.”
“Really?”
“I don’t care.  She seems like a nice kid but if she bothers you that much then just get rid of her.”
Mia hesitated, chewed her lip.  “Well.  That probably wouldn’t be very fair.  I guess I’m being kind of dumb, huh?”
“I don’t think you have a dumb bone in your body, Squirrel, it’s the insecure bones that get to me.  Now where’s my dinner woman?  I’m starving!”
“I’ll bet she can’t cook for beans,” Mia grinned.
“Probably can’t boil water,” Rich agreed sagely.

Re: First Nano source of excitement

Hey ho sis!!!

Re: First Nano source of excitement

(note:  Mia and Amber have become friends, obviously, before I wrote this excerpt) :
Amber showed up the day after Rich left for a week long seminar entitled “Safety In The Work Place,” one of his favorite classes to lead for the  kick he got out of the glum faces of mandatory attendees  if nothing else.  She drove in, skidding to a stop in a screech of brakes,  after pulling in too quickly, scattering gravel and sqwuaking chickens.  Mia came to the door, surprised, but welcoming.  She opened the door and saw immediately that Amber had been crying from the smudges of mascara on her  face. She drew her into the house, settling  her at the kitchen table with a box of kleenex before  putting a kettle on for some camomile tea.
“I’m sorry,” Amber said,  “I shouldn’t be here bothering you but I just couldn’t think of anyone else that I could talk to about a problem I have.”
“Boy trouble?” Mia guessed, keeping her voice light.
Amber looked at her miserably, her lashes clumped together thickly with tears,  “Yes.  But not like you think.  It’s worse than just regular boy trouble.  I’m pregnant.”
“Pregnant?  Are you sure?  It hasn’t been very long since you asked me for a tampon.  Surely not even a month.”
“I think I was pregnant then.  I guess that was just spotting, maybe from that spill I took when I was horseback riding, but it stopped that night and it never started again.”
“Have you been to a doctor?  Or taken a pregnancy test from the drug store?“
No.  I’m too scared to.  I know that I am pregnant, I just know it, but I still don’t want to know-know. ”
“Tell you what.  Why don’t I run into town and get a kit.  You never know, it might be a false alarm.”
Amber looked up, hope daring to enter her expression before she tamped it back down, “You’d do that for me?  I don’t have any money on me.
”Mia reached out and stroked Amber’s thin almost white hair.  She loved the feel of it and Amber seemed to love having it stroked, almost purring like a kitten at any touch really.  “Yes, I’ll go right now.  Teenage girls are notorious for having incosistent periods.  Let me pour you some tea and get you some cookies, I made gingersnaps lastnight, and you can just relax until I get back.  Okay?”

**

Re: First Nano source of excitement

God. I wasn't going to read, I was going to ask you to give it some paragraph breaks but I started and couldn't stop, Ayla.

And what's this about not being good at details???! This kind of thing is fabulous detail: It takes two to tangle as they say.”“I’m pretty sure that’s two to tango, not tangle.”  Mia was always getting her quotes mixed up, a quirk that usually delighted her.  She had once told Amber that two duck in a pond were better than one in a basket.

And, as I've said before, dialogue is sensuous detail, it's something we 'hear'. And the dialogue, is as always, wonderful.

I read straight through to the end, such a treat to keep 'moving' like that, to be there, feel them, hear them. Oh, poor, poor Amber. I love her hair (more great 'sensuous' detail).

I paused once: Bile rose from Mia’s stomach, burning her throat.
I'm not sure why, but this seemed to me to be a strange reaction. When I re-read, I could 'understand' it, and still it seems, I don't know, something. Maybe I just want to slow down a bit here, feel more inside Mia, so I can get why she had this  reaction.

I'm curious how you are managing this “omniscient” point of view. I've, so far, never been able to do it. Getting inside everyone, all characters. I find it easier to stay in third limited, meaning third person, but basically following one character.

In your pieces posted here, while we are mostly with Mia, we sometimes get inside Amber, here for example: Amber looked up, hope daring to enter her expression before she tamped it back down.

Is it Mia's story? Or is it Amber's? Or is it a story about both of them, about several people equally? I'm not saying don't stay with the pov you have, by the way, these are just questions to hold lightly as you go on.

Definitely don't think too much about it, my sense is it will unfold - and is unfolding - perfectly as you carry on writing.

Just great work. Feels absolutely flowing and 'right' to me.

Re: First Nano source of excitement

Sorry, Sandra, I forgot to check the formatting.  This new computer has Windows 7 and when I put my text in the box all of the paragraph breaks are there but after hitting “send” they are just gone!  I have no idea why.  I can't believe you read it like that.  Thank you!  Ha ha about the POV.  I am trying valiantly to stay in the third limited and keep slipping out.  Maybe I should think about writing “omniscient” because that comes more natural for me.  The story is supposed to be about Mia and Amber, third person limited for Mia, and first person coming from Amber. 
As for the bile thing - well, there was/is a reason for such a strong reaction and I planned on getting to that but maybe it does need a a little prefacing (is that the right word).  Something to think about.  Thank you.
Just like you keep telling me, you don't have to keep reading this stuff.  Of course I appreciate it (that's an understatement) but I know your plate is full, dear one.
Gosh, thanx for the compliments on sensuous details.  I'm just beaming!

Re: First Nano source of excitement

Totally what Sandra said, Ayla. I started reading and just couldn't put it down, like the novel it definitely feels like.

“No,” Amber answered dully. Mia slid into a chair beside Amber, reaching out to pat her hands; hands that were wringing themselves so hard her fingertips were turning blue.

Amber’s words had crashed into her, a black cloud thundering, setting off lightening splashes of something primal, something dangerous.  Her anger was so intense that she felt alarmed, almost as if she were in danger herself…

And on and on. Beautifully written.

And that poor child, like so many in real life—thinking they're whores and everyone will hate them or be disgusted with them for what was done to them.

Re: First Nano source of excitement

holy moly - yes to what Sandra and Ruth both said. I am invested now in this story, all of it, I want to read more and then some. these excerpts are almost agonizing because i just want to read the whole thing, no breaks, I love the complications and the very honest and real emotions that come through for the characters… beautifully descriptive.. good god please keep writing this.

xo

Re: First Nano source of excitement

wonderful writing Alya!!!
I am amazed at the details and the dialogue. It feels so real. 
you are good.

Re: First Nano source of excitement

Ayla, I thought it was very interesting what you said about writing the story backwards. Some stories actually don't have linear time lines, and maybe this is one of those. In reading this, I was actually feeling that it was more about Mia, but that might be because I was introduced to her character first. Yet, with the build up of jealousy that Mia was feeling towards Amber, I felt that there was such a fair hand being used when writing these characters, that each of their voices were true.

This is so interesting and chock-full of sensuous detail. I can't wait to read more, to learn more about these characters. Really excellent.

Re: First Nano source of excitement

a litte excerpt from Amber (I keep posting Mia even though Amber has spoken on my pages nearly as much)
The parentals have been informed of my state of disgrace.  They have also been told of the circumstance in which I have found myself in a state of disgrace.  Rich and Mia talked me into telling them the truth.  My Mom turned white and then she cried.  My Dad turned red and then he cried.  They weren’t even mad at me at all.  I can’t believe it.  Mom even hugged me. That wasn’t the reaction I expected at all.  Mia just kind of sat there, beaming, this “I told you so” look on her face.  Rich kept clearing his throat like he had a frog stuck or something.  I almost think he had to fight off tears himself. 
 I’m wore out from all the drama, I just feel completely drained.  I have been  banished to my room so I’m laying here twiddling my thumbs, staring at the ceiling, while my fate is sealed in another room.  Mia is resolute that we have to go to the police, press charges.  My Mom is against it.  My Dad isn’t saying much.  I started crying and begging them not to make me do it, thus the banishment while the “adults” talk.  Can you imagine?  It’s my life so I think I should be part of the discussion.  On the other hand, I felt pretty puke-y there for a minute so maybe it’s better to let them have their round table.  I’m still not going to talk to the police no matter what they decide
.My hands keep wandering to my belly.  It feels a little bit rounded, not a lot, just kind of like it gets when I’m bloated and about to start my period, except firmer. Mia says that it’s important that I see a doctor and get prenatal care right away. That’s why I agreed to tell my parents that I’m knocked up.  I don’t want anything bad to happen to the Peanut just because I’m a big coward.  I’m still spewing constantly.  Pizza has been added to the list of no-can-stand-to-smells and it’s pretty tough at school because half the population eats pizza for lunch.  I’ve been hiding out in a bathroom stall with a book and a can of ginger ale.  I’ve become a ginger ale junky.  Vernors is my favorite and I’ve discovered that it’s really, really good with white cheddar Cheeze-Its.  Yum nummy.
Rich won’t let me ride Ebony until I have a doctor’s okay.  I miss riding her so much.  I still spend a lot of time with her though.  I halter her almost every day after school and we just walk around together like she’s a big dog.  She likes it because she gets to find lots of grass and weeds along the side of the road to eat and I try to be patient with her even though I scold her and tell her she’s a bottomless pit.  I have her mane completely braided now and Mia bought me these little pink rubber bands to tie them with that are made especially for horses.  I didn’t know such things existed.  They are thicker and stronger than the small rubber bands for humans.  Rich threw up his hands in mock horror when he saw her. He just took one look and said, “Oh, Ebony darlin’, please accept my apologies.  I had no idea this wench had aspirations towards beauty school. I would have never let her near you otherwise.”  Ebony blew snot right in his face and I just about died laughing.    

Re: First Nano source of excitement

Ayla, I wanted to read this excerpt yesterday (that Ebony line! That bit with her is marvellous).. I love it. what I like is how you have managed to cover so much material and make it sharp, sassy, interesting, funny and very very realistic. It's a kind of 'summary' scene - we need these in novels because we have to take some leaps here and there in time (most of us at least)  and this is a perfect example. Enough sensuous details (!) to make it engaging, and moving along quickly.
Bravo.

Re: A Little Bit of Grace (excerpt)

Oh, Ayla, there is just something so special about the tone of your characters when you write teenage girls. I still remember your story, “I Think I Can,” and how much I loved those characters. What I really love is that Amber is letting all of the adults hash this out but she has already decided that no matter what, she is not going to the authorities. It gives her quite a bit of power over the situation, but she doesn't even realize that, I don't think.

I also love the ending. So funny! Classic horse humor, I'd say. Maybe Ebony likes her new hairdo.

Keep it coming, love. Oh, is that like a KC and the Sunshine Band song or something? I think so, but I mean it.

Love, An-dray-a

Re: A Little Bit of Grace (excerpt)

(thank you An-dray-a, love you)
Amber again -

I’ve just about had enough of the bullshit at school.  I don’t care about being popular, I really don’t, but I do care about everyone and their brother calling me a slut, thinking that I wanted to have sex with those boys and wanted to do all of the disgusting things they are saying I did.  Consequently, I found myself standing tensely in front of Mike Butler’s locker this morning, waiting for him to arrive, determined to face them all down, one by one.  I don’t know why I chose Mike first.  Maybe because his name seemed to come up more often than the others when the laughs and whispers floated around me like ugly acid rain.  I watched him swagger down the hall and as much as I hate him I admit that he’s good looking with his perfect face, a face so perfect he’s almost pretty, and that thick black hair.  I can remember having a huge crush on him in seventh grade.  I thought I’d die if he didn’t look my way but now I wish our paths had never crossed, that he didn’t even exist; or maybe that I didn’t even exist. 
 He walked right up to me, grinning, as though my presence at his locker were an everyday occurrence.  “Hey Amber.  You’re sort of blocking my locker.”
“I know.  I’m doing that purposely.”
“Why?  What’s up?” he dropped his backpack right on my foot -what did he have in there, bricks?   I kicked it off nonchalantly but I was starting to tremble and my ears were roaring as though a pair of giant conch shells were clamped over them. I tried to steady myself with a few deep breaths before I answered, “I want to know the truth.  Did you guys.  Did you.  I’ve heard that you are going around saying–“
“What?” he snapped, his friendly veneer gone, “You heard what?”
“Did you and your friends really do all that stuff to me?  Did you rape me?”
It became apparent, immediately, that using the “R” word was a Big Mistake.  His face hardened, turned almost ugly and his hands fisted.   “What are you talking about?  I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then why do I keep hearing that you and your creep friends are saying that you all took turns on me?”
“You can’t hold me responsible for rumors.  You know how it is, Amber.  I’ve never said a word about you.  I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I was shaking so hard by now that I knew it was a visible kind of shaking, that he was noting it and probably feeling victorious and ready to go in for the kill.  It made my fear drain away, replaced by rage.  I mean what else was he going to do to me?  Hadn’t the worst thing possible already happened?   I wanted to scratch his eyes out.  I wanted to bring my knee up square in his balls so hard that he dropped to the floor screaming.  I hated him.  Hated him.  “You fuck.  You do know what I’m talking about.  You do.  Just tell me because I was passed out so I can’t remember, you know?  You’re so brave bragging about it to the rest of the school, to your stupid buddies, to anyone who will listen, how about bragging about it to me?  Tell me all about it.  Was it fun?  Is that how you get your rocks off, on a sick passed out girl?  Are you a big man now?”
He flushed a deep red before shoving me up backwards against the locker, hard, his face so close to mine that I could smell his hot breath and it was sour, like curdled milk.  He pinned me there with his full weight pressing against my chest and whispered in my ear, “You’re nothing but an ugly little whore and I wouldn’t fuck you if you paid me.  I want you to go away now, leave me alone.  I don’t know what you are talking about.  Do you understand?”  He pressed against me a little harder, cutting off my air, “Do you understand?”
By now a crowd was gathering, people whispering and staring.  I should have screamed.  I should have fought back.  But all my bravado, all my daring drained away the minute he became physical with me, it just fled and I felt sick with fear. Fear that just left me standing there, pinned against his locker like a mute idiot with infuriating tears spouting from my eyes.  I nodded. He stood back, the mock friendly grin back on his face, flashing his perfect white teeth.  I wanted to smash them to bits, make him look as ugly as he should look.  But he was bigger, stronger, and I had no choice but to back down, to flee.  I walked, as fast as I could without actually breaking into a  run, to my locker, head down, ignoring the blurry blobs of faces staring at me, gabbling like a flock of geese in my wake.  I grabbed my backpack, holding it in front of me like a shield and I left. I just walked out the double doors of that school and left, vowing to never return.  I continued to walk quickly until I was sure I was out of sight and then I ran as fast as I could until I was home.  I flew through the door, slamming it behind me, panting and gasping as I bent from the waist trying to catch my breath.  The house was silent, my parents at work, only the click of the second hand on the kitchen clock making any noise. I climbed the stairs to my room, throwing myself on my futon, still unmade from last night’s sleep.  I clasped Teddy Mack so tightly he flattened out like a pancake.  I sobbed and wailed for so long that I scared myself, afraid that I’d have to be wrapped in a straight jacket and carted from the house by men in white.  It seemed no amount of crying or railing could make me feel better.  Oh, I’m so sick of crying, it’s exasperating.  I gave up and went down to my parent’s bathroom, straight to the medicine cabinet where my Dad keeps his razor. I left the bathroom, and then retraced my steps for a roll of toilet paper.  Charmin, nice and absorbent. Taking the stairs two at a time, I hurried back to my room, eagerness setting in.  Time slowed, a dreamy quality coming over me, even as snot and tears continued rolling down my face and over my mouth, stinging my chapped lips with salt. Taking deep breaths to calm myself and steady my hand, I noticed Teddy Mack face down on the floor at my feet.  I kicked him across the room. He landed face up and stared at me accusingly with his brown glass eyes.  Stupid fucking teddy bear, what are you, Amber, five years old?  I placed the razor on my nightstand so I could tug my jeans off.  I sat back on my futon, positioning my legs straight in front of me.  Look at those ugly fat thighs, fucking thunder thighs.  No worries about ruining any beauty there, that’s for sure.  Picking the razor back up gingerly, carefully, not wanting to cut my fingers because that hurts, I press an edge down experimentally against my flesh,  bracing myself for the sting,  then press harder until I feel  the little pop of skin,  I pull, fast, hard, hesitation gone.  I watch, spellbound as blood oozes up, drop by drop, filling in the straight gash, always so beautiful against the white of my skin, ruby droplets forming, turning into fat jewel-like bubbles before breaking into red streaks.  I swipe a wad of toilet paper over it before it can drip onto my sheets and then carve another line.  I cut, slice, and dice until I feel finished, until my tears finally, thankfully, dry up.  Now the calm after the storm, the blessed emptiness.  Followed by the burning, exquisite pain, yes, this is the very definition of exquisite pain, whether Mrs. Scott, my English teacher, would label it an oxymoron or not.   The release is immense, like squeezing pus out of an infected wound.  All of this strange ecstasy followed by apprehension because I’d cut a little deeper than I meant to.  The trickles of blood turn to crimson river, forcing me to pull the case from my pillow to soak it all up. Apply pressure, it will stop, several minutes of more pain than I bargained for as I press down hard.  It frightens me enough I started promising all over again that this will be the last time.  
It wasn’t’ until later, as I undressed for bed, this shitty day finally, thankfully coming to an end, that I noticed the jagged lines formed a word.  I couldn’t remember trying to write a word and it made me wonder all over again if I might truly be going crazy.  I studied the mess, partly scabbed, the skin around the wounds an angry fuchsia, curiosity turning to dismay.  SLUT.  It was official; I was now branded a slut, maybe I should sew a big scarlet “S” the front of every shirt I owned.  I wish I could erase it.  On the other hand, maybe it’s perfectly appropriate.