That Little Box That Beats In Your Chest

A week passed, and before Lacey knew it, it was the morning of the party. As she woke up, the first thought that passed through her mind was ‘I wish I could go back to sleep’. That was normally the first thought had, no matter the day. Sleeping was one of the few things she really enjoyed. It let her forget, and she could escape, and indulge in a few hours of serenity. She thought of it as death, but without the commitment, as morbid as that sounded.

Her second thought was about the party. She was dreading it. She had been contributing to the pre-party buzz during lunch with the guys, but she felt herself getting more and more anxious. She had heard about parties that got out of hand, and was frankly a little scared. Her third thought was about the beverages that would most definitely be consumed at the large-scale social gathering. Though her parents had always offered her a sip of beer here or there, or a little glass of wine to accompany nice meals, Lacey had never really found herself attracted to alcohol. She had seen how it could transform a person, and was frankly puzzled at how people could think they needed that extra component to have fun at a party.

Nevertheless, she got up. Padding across the hall to the bathroom, she noted the eerie emptiness that enveloped the house. Her parents must have gone somewhere, she mused. She walked up to the mirror, and sighed. That familiar feeling was back, taking over all her thoughts. Disgust, disappointment, sadness, anger, stress, shame, helplessness, but most of all, hatred, looked back at her. She pulled out the scale from under the sink, and watched as the numbers got higher and higher as she put one, then two feet on the cork surface. Once the scale decided on one number, Lacey sighed, feeling ashamed of the number it showed. Weighing 145 pounds seemed like so much to her, and she wondered how she couldn’t be losing weight. She decided to skip breakfast, so rather than going downstairs and preparing a bowl of cereal, Lacey decided she would get serious. Quickly changing into some jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie, she grabbed some money, and headed outside, locking the front door behind her. She walked for a while, through the park, and ended up heading to Walgreens.

Lacey stood still, staring at the selection of razors there was on display. She wasn’t looking for razorblades to shave, she was searching for something a little more useful, and evidently, less popular. She finally found the row of loose blades hiding between refills for razors, and grabbed one. Finding black eyeliner in a different row, she figured buying something else would make the cashier less suspicious. Thankfully, she had never seen the cashier in her life. Grabbing her purchases, she headed home, fully intending on using one of her shiny new toys.

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A few hours later, Lacey was sitting on her bed, just staring at the wall in front of her, thinking. She had gotten upset, and couldn’t get a hold of herself before she grabbed the blade. Her strong emotions, paired with the sharp new blade, were enough to make the deepest cut she had ever made. She had been tending to her wounds (the others weren’t so major) when she realized it was unlikely it would scab over and heal. So there she sat, thinking of an excuse to not go to the party. She could find none. Lacey had no bandages to put over the cut, so she sat there, immobile, waiting and hoping it would scab over at least a little. Thankfully, 45 minutes before the guys were due to pick her up; it seemed her cut was fine. She quickly pulled on her one-piece spandex Superwoman costume, attached the cape, and put on the boots and the headband. She put on some makeup, overdramatizing her everyday eyeliner to make it winged, and topped everything off with some red lipstick. She looked at herself in the mirror, trying to see what Zack and the other band mates had seen a week ago. She couldn’t. As she tried to up her self-confidence with some inner thoughts, she heard Rian honk. She rushed down the stairs and out the door, muttering a quick explanation to her parents, ignoring their yelling. She was off, to the first party of her life, and she had no idea what to expect.