Rising Floor

By , New York, NY
The walls are melting, dripping over the mirrors leaving white trails stained across them. They drip down until they reach the floor, then they make a puddle that surrounds my feet. My new shoes are going to be ruined now. Her and I had just bought them together yesterday, while she was breathing out cigarette smoke and things about her life that she knew I didn’t care about. The ceiling has faces that are whispering me to me. They are whispering things I don’t want to hear, but I listen because I want to. “Stupid, ugly, fat, weird, freak, annoying” their whispering is getting louder and louder. The wall liquid is rising past my ankles now. The mirrors are foggy, but I can still see a person inside of them. There is a dirty sink in front of me, the knobs have been grabbed and twisted and turned by so many people before, I wonder if they ever get tired of it. There is a girl next to me hurling her guts out into the twin sink to the left of mine. She lets her troubles crawl up her throat and jump into the sink, she hopes they will go down the drain and she will never see them again. I want to look down her throat and see if there is any monsters she’s trying to push out of her stomach. Her waist is so thin, I notice the width of the sink is bigger than it. Evan though I am bigger than her, I feel smaller than her. The tears streaming down her plastic face are black, and I wonder if she’s worried about ruining her lipstick. I still manage to stand even with the walls and ceiling caving in. The floor is rising. And I only manage because of the person in the mirror. She looks like I’ve seen her before, but I don’t know her name. She wears the clothing I hate, the necklace I want to crush, and make up that is poorly put on. She’s too pale, just like I, she can’t tan for her life. Her eyes stare into mine, they are glossy and glass-like, they remind me of the eyes of a doll that I used to have. They seem lifeless, like dead peoples eyes look when they are open, and someone is supposed to come by and close them so they can rest in peace. But no one comes. The girl staring back isn’t much, short and not the strongest, but I still remember that it is because of her I stay standing, it is because of her that I am brave enough to stand in this room, and she is begging me to protect her, begging me to walk out of this room, walk out of this whole screaming building, walk down the street and into that place that is my rented home. She wants me to ignore the calling bottles, to walk past them as if I don’t know them. She wants me to look at the choking girl next to me and swear that that was never me. She wants me to stay away from mean things like knifes and pills that make you sleepy. If I do this, she says, she will keep me standing, she will keep me awake. The others in the outside room are running around in the dark, while I stand here in her dim flickering light. She will keep this light on until I leave. I will leave the hacking girl next to me in the dark. In the dark where she will forever remain.





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