After another stellar workout and a mind full of regrets, she gets in the car to leave. She notices an unfinished book that has tucked itself down between the seats.
She shrugs and rolls her eyes. Holiness. As if ten years and a second read could really make it sink in; make her any different. She sits and stares as her anger forbids the inevitable avalanche of dammed up pain from bursting forth – at least for the moment. Spiritually spent, she starts the engine and dutifully drives home.
Deep thoughts linger as the realities of the day play out around her. Like a dream wherein she is only an observer she feels fully detached. She watches as her four year old reaches for the dog. Once, he nips her. Twice, he scratches her. Thrice, he bites her. Each time, pain followed by premature forgiveness. He lunges again and her countenance changes. No more soft, sad eyes. No more holding her own little hands together trying to ease the hurt. No more whimpers as she waits for an apology of sorts. No. With new-found fury in her eyes, she stands up tall over top of him. Viciously, she grabs his knotted toy and she seeks revenge. She is me.
She cooks. She teaches. She obeys. She submits. She forgets.
She feeds. She fails. She rebels. She usurps. She remembers.
So, she fights. She fights. Her fury fuels her fear and she finishes what she figured she would always fight against. She fails. She fights. She fails. She will not forgive.
She exits the externally pristine world her best efforts have created. The envy of her peers destroys any sense of accomplishment achieved by that which was real. The sting of frozen air comforts her with its familiarity. She runs. She wonders how she got this far away. She feigns forgetfulness. She pines for perfection, but as she peers inward all she ever sees is that pitiful, poor little girl so plagued by the past.
Far away from what? It all seems so false. Holiness? Truth? Righteousness? Reality? What is it all about anyway? She is unsure why she is so unsure. She is indifferent about her sudden indifference. Apathy. Hollowness. Emptiness. Nothingness. Darkness.
She stays outside until her hands ache with cold. ”Ice Queen” is the name she has been given. She cannot figure whether it is because the cold does not faze her or just because it is so wretchedly plain to see that her heart is bitter cold. Perhaps it is a little of both. All she knows is that she no longer cares. Apathy and numbness have spread like cancer over all affections. She is dying.
She attends the high school musical. Beauty and the Beast perform an epic that seeks to awaken her lost love once again. She watches as a princess sacrifices herself for the sake of her father- a father who loves her immensely. She dozes, exhausted from the week’s fight. She awakens to a beast with a changed heart sitting at the table with an even more beautifully clothed princess. She no longer sees staying with him as a sorrow-filled sacrifice. She wonders if the fairy tale will materialize or if she is simply an utter fool.
Finally, she closes her eyes and she struggles to slowly sift through all the sickness and sedentary shadows she stores inside. She searches for a shred of something that has somehow been so long stolen. She reluctantly surrenders. She swears it will be the very last time.
Hope. She hopes. She will still lose. She already has. With the taste of failure still in her mouth, she remains. God save her.