Quod me nutrit, me destruit.
Medusa
She wanted desperately to be the girl who never ate. She needed to be the beautiful girl everyone admired. She leaped from pound to pound and clutched her bones to her, striving to feel every ridge, just to reach the goals she set for herself.
Some days she was that girl; some days she starved to see her bones. Some days she felt beautiful and dropped pounds like shedding hair. However on other days, she was the girl who ate everything. She was the girl who longed to fill the hole deep inside her, and attempted to do so with food.
She didn’t know which girl was the real her anymore.
Some days she was utterly perfect; skin and bones. And some days she wore the flesh; the thick, fatty flesh, of the devil himself.
Behind her eyes hid a fiery woman. She lived in the depths of her mind, in every nerve. She lived in every bone and every inch of skin. The woman spit words like venom and ate away the little girl’s innocence.
She killed her from the inside out.
These two, the hellish snake lady, and the pubescent girl shared everything. They shared the paper armor that spread thinly over thick blue veins, and they shared the metallic rust that flowed through those veins. They shared long yellow strands of pure silk that ended in the middle of their butterfly spinal chord. They both hid behind a smile full of ivory piano keys and a forked tongue. Together, they were unstoppable.
The young girl, the weakest out of the two, stood at a measly height of five foot one and carried a heavy load everywhere she went. She walked with hunched shoulders and spoke in soft chimes. She didn’t need a name; a name was just a word anchoring her to the earth. A name was a burden-- a mix of syllables, and sounds-- nothing more.
But the world refused to surrender its upper hand and so they called her Brooke.
The girl walked around feeling completely empty. Her bones felt hollow and her stomach sunk in. Each day she pushed herself a little farther. She dared her body to give up; she taunted it and mocked its every move. She reached her skeletal hand down into her empty stomach, her intestines and, if she was lucky all the way through to clean herself out. Her organs screamed in opposition and she slowly rotted in the bleached sun.
She still wasn’t happy. Her body bent at her word, it succumbed to her will and folded in on itself. Her bones stretched farther to fill the empty spaces and her muscles died off and peeled away like skin. She was nothing but skin and bones.
Through all of it Brooke thought she was in control. She thought that she was controlling her body; she thought it was her words it bowed to. She knew what she was capable of and was sure nothing could hurt her, but by looking at her you could tell she was fighting a battle, and losing.
Her sunken eyes and pronounced cheekbones screamed memories of the Holocaust and her brittle bones told you to keep away. Her hair was thinning so much you could see the shine of her scalp, which crowned her head like a halo. Her fingers stretched outward in threatening claws; but all they were, were broken twigs.
She was nothing to the outside world; she was invisible and powerless. She was a tiny baby in need of cradling and a broken heart in need of mending, but to her personal Medusa she was everything, she was a rag doll to be thrown around, she was a perfect angel.
After all, with such paper-thin skin, beautifully sculpted bones and feathers for hair, what was she but an angel?
The picture-perfect angel of death.
***
The snake winded and threaded itself between her organs, close to her heart, and filled her with venom. She hissed and sighed words into Brooke’s mouth and controlled every movement with a flick of her tail. Medusa squeezed her esophagus and sunk her teeth into Brooke’s gut.
And then she shed her like a tight shell of scales.
Brooke whimpered in the empty house, clutching at her chest with wide eyes and struggling with the words.
”Shhh…”
Her teeth clenched and she began to choke. Her hands stretched above her head and she split at the seams. She screamed as her stuffing began to fall out and scatter across the floor.
”What’s it feel like to die, Brooke? Shhh…” the snake cackled and flicked its tongue.
“Not. Good.” She managed to choke out before her head lulled back and her eyes flickered out.
Some days she was that girl; some days she starved to see her bones. Some days she felt beautiful and dropped pounds like shedding hair. However on other days, she was the girl who ate everything. She was the girl who longed to fill the hole deep inside her, and attempted to do so with food.
She didn’t know which girl was the real her anymore.
Some days she was utterly perfect; skin and bones. And some days she wore the flesh; the thick, fatty flesh, of the devil himself.
Behind her eyes hid a fiery woman. She lived in the depths of her mind, in every nerve. She lived in every bone and every inch of skin. The woman spit words like venom and ate away the little girl’s innocence.
She killed her from the inside out.
These two, the hellish snake lady, and the pubescent girl shared everything. They shared the paper armor that spread thinly over thick blue veins, and they shared the metallic rust that flowed through those veins. They shared long yellow strands of pure silk that ended in the middle of their butterfly spinal chord. They both hid behind a smile full of ivory piano keys and a forked tongue. Together, they were unstoppable.
The young girl, the weakest out of the two, stood at a measly height of five foot one and carried a heavy load everywhere she went. She walked with hunched shoulders and spoke in soft chimes. She didn’t need a name; a name was just a word anchoring her to the earth. A name was a burden-- a mix of syllables, and sounds-- nothing more.
But the world refused to surrender its upper hand and so they called her Brooke.
The girl walked around feeling completely empty. Her bones felt hollow and her stomach sunk in. Each day she pushed herself a little farther. She dared her body to give up; she taunted it and mocked its every move. She reached her skeletal hand down into her empty stomach, her intestines and, if she was lucky all the way through to clean herself out. Her organs screamed in opposition and she slowly rotted in the bleached sun.
She still wasn’t happy. Her body bent at her word, it succumbed to her will and folded in on itself. Her bones stretched farther to fill the empty spaces and her muscles died off and peeled away like skin. She was nothing but skin and bones.
Through all of it Brooke thought she was in control. She thought that she was controlling her body; she thought it was her words it bowed to. She knew what she was capable of and was sure nothing could hurt her, but by looking at her you could tell she was fighting a battle, and losing.
Her sunken eyes and pronounced cheekbones screamed memories of the Holocaust and her brittle bones told you to keep away. Her hair was thinning so much you could see the shine of her scalp, which crowned her head like a halo. Her fingers stretched outward in threatening claws; but all they were, were broken twigs.
She was nothing to the outside world; she was invisible and powerless. She was a tiny baby in need of cradling and a broken heart in need of mending, but to her personal Medusa she was everything, she was a rag doll to be thrown around, she was a perfect angel.
After all, with such paper-thin skin, beautifully sculpted bones and feathers for hair, what was she but an angel?
The picture-perfect angel of death.
***
The snake winded and threaded itself between her organs, close to her heart, and filled her with venom. She hissed and sighed words into Brooke’s mouth and controlled every movement with a flick of her tail. Medusa squeezed her esophagus and sunk her teeth into Brooke’s gut.
And then she shed her like a tight shell of scales.
Brooke whimpered in the empty house, clutching at her chest with wide eyes and struggling with the words.
”Shhh…”
Her teeth clenched and she began to choke. Her hands stretched above her head and she split at the seams. She screamed as her stuffing began to fall out and scatter across the floor.
”What’s it feel like to die, Brooke? Shhh…” the snake cackled and flicked its tongue.
“Not. Good.” She managed to choke out before her head lulled back and her eyes flickered out.
♠ ♠ ♠
Thanks to Dana for betaing.