I found this while looking for another document. I had completely forgotten I wrote this. I enjoyed it. So from November of 2001, I present:
Too Hard
The light cast a pallor over the slowly deteriorating
furniture. It turned the faded pea green of the
upholstery an almost pretty blue. The shadows
caressed her face as she leaned inward. She
reached towards the source of her temptation, but
with sheer will, forced her hand away and set it
back to rest. She continued to stare. She felt the
beckoning as she always did. The ever-present
source of comfort and shame stood there mutely,
almost imploring her to try that reach one more
time. Her hand twitched with restrained
movement. She almost reached again. She could
feel herself losing control.
“I can do this,” she whispered, each word a battle
cry.
Her hunched back gave a shudder. Her whole
body shook, sweat began to bead on her brow as
her concentration turned inward. She fought for
the power to determine her own actions. She
straightened up and motioned to close the door.
But the demons fought back. The possession of
Shawna had begun to slip, their grasp was
starting to loosen. The demons redoubled their
efforts. Thoughts of guilt, fear, shame and doubt
were sent into her mind. Her efforts began to feel
pointless. She felt despair creep through her
veins, pulsing with her every heartbeat.
She began to see how lonely she was, how she
was starving for companionship, for attention, for
love. This was a sure thing. She couldn’t lose.
She couldn’t be rejected, turned down or sent
away. Besides, what could it hurt? It was just
once. One time. It meant nothing in the great
scheme of life. What was one single episode
compared to a lifetime? Her hunger for peace
began to erode her defenses as her resolve began
to waver like a highway in the Los Angeles sun.
She shifted the burden of supporting her to the
hand on the freezer door and held the refrigerator
open with her hip as she reached in and grabbed
the sinful six-pack of chocolate bars she had
rationalized herself into buying.
She had told herself that she would only eat them
a little at a time, over a whole month. The
chocolate would be her reward for “being good.”
She certainly wouldn’t eat them all at once. She
certainly wouldn’t cave to the pressure this time.
They wouldn’t be a temptation if she knew just
why she had them in there. A reward, not a
temptation.
She broke off the first piece and raised it to her
lips. The cold chocolate kissed her eager mouth
with its sweet semi-moist taste. As it melted in
her mouth she began to feel that buzz, that joy of
belonging, a feeling of normal. She swallowed her
problems in the milk-chocolate coating. Each
snub, every sidelong glance, every surreptitious
glare, every unheard joke was consumed and
digested. They would be broken down and
disappear if only for a little while.
She could feel her elation lifting her up. She could
feel the dark gaping pits in her soul being filled
with molten chocolate. She needed to feel whole.
She needed to fill holes. How can you fill holes if
you don’t have anything to fill them with? She
needed to fill them with something. She had to
take the psychic cement in before she could use
it right? She needed to eat. She had to have
materials to fill the holes.
Without her awareness, the burning tears began
to flow down her cheeks. The world turned to
water, and sobs began somewhere deep within
her soul, making their slow agonizing way to the
surface.
As she broke off each piece, and as the pieces
became ever larger, she repeated her mantra,
“This is the last piece, then I am putting them all
back in the fridge.” But one more piece couldn’t
hurt. One more piece and then that’s it. Just one
more. Her sobs nearly made her aspirate the
chocolate. That was the ritual.
Shawna’s fingers were covered in semi-melted
Hershey’s when there was no chocolate left in the
box. The wrappers lay strewn about her on the
floor as she methodically licked the last remaining
drops of sweet acceptance from her chubby
fingertips.
She came back to herself then. The demons had
won again. She lasted longer, but they beat her
again. They lifted her high, like always. They
dropped her far, like always. Shawna’s long hair
fell around her as she buried her face in her hands
surrounded by the evidence of what she had done.
She was disgusted. She was disgusting. She felt
broken. The holes were filled, but new holes
sprang into being almost immediately after. Her
spirit was listless and her body was immobile.
She laid herself flat on the linoleum and stared at
the dark ceiling.
The salty river began flowing into her ears.
Darkness began creeping around the edges of her
vision as she lay unblinking too long. She closed
her eyes to ease the burning and blot out the
horrible world that forced her into this. Her sobs
slowed and her breathing evened. Slowly her mind
lost focus.
“I should get up,” she thought between sobs.
Then Shawna knew no more that night.
The End
