Icicle

August 19, 2010
By Atticus SILVER, Wenatchee, Washington
Atticus SILVER, Wenatchee, Washington
6 articles 0 photos 8 comments

Favorite Quote:
She deserves to be written~


She felt numb. Her body the icicle, her thoughts ice. She didn’t move to get into the hot water; she just stared into the steaming tub.
“Drip…drip…drip…”
It was cold standing naked. She couldn’t move though.
She could simply fall, break anything that slammed into the wall of the bath, and then slowly drown in her unconsciousness self. Since she was thirteen she had always wanted to die electrocuted. Now that would be a shock! She imagined the energy frying her nerve endings until she was nothing more than a cooked sausage. Eww, she hated sausage though.
“Drip…drip…drip…sniff.”
Wait, was she crying? She couldn’t believe it. Tears burned their way out of her eyes and then became frigid in the chilly air down her cheeks. She didn’t stop it, how could she? She was an icicle, she was supposed to drip.
She hunched over, curling over the stone in her chest, but she didn’t stop. She kept moving. She moved one leg up and over and winced when her toes reached the water. She raised the other leg, and sat. She had made it into the tub.


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