Author: Catticus PM
references to selfabuse. My muses, my self creation. Me.Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Spiritual - Words: 844 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 03-25-05 - Status: Complete - id: 1868830
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The main muse within the padded walls of the Asylum is named Molly. She is my alternate being, my seductive side. She loves lemons and limes but given the choice she'd prefer a good kiwi or orange, if you know the terminology. She wears a black bow with white polka-dots in her hair. She's a freak and a gothic and rebels against everything, in her head. She wouldn't dare do something so drastic just because someone said she couldn't.
The second is a small girl of nine or ten, who wishes to stay a child forever, to never grow up. She is scared of her aunt. She wonders why she is such a bad person, to be put down by peers and family. She hates being yelled at and scolded; she wants to do everything right. She wants to please everyone by doing everything right. She's messy and doesn't ever do her school work because she's bored. Timidness and shy describe her well. I guess I can name her Danielle.
The third is Danielle's protector, the hard mask that is worn over Danielle's face everyday of her life. She calls herself Danni and makes a point of telling off every person that makes fun of her. She lets the insults run off her back like water to hit her full force in the face in the night. She cries herself to sleep and wonders why her aunt can't just learn to remember that your tone of voice can mean more than the words.
In the fourth room of the Asylum there is a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, very contrary looks compared to the others. She gives the Asylum its perkyness and love of colour. She sighs over boys and gets giggly over a crush. She adds the girl qualities to everything and decides that she is the epitome of cute. She has her own secret place, on a beach, where she sits and dyes her hair black, puts the bow in her hair, the mask on her face, and looks at the world with very different eyes. Aileen loves the beach.
Catticus sits in a dark room where a razor, pin, and knife sit on the desk in front of her. The pin is on a poppy, the knife on a multi-tool, the razor from a disposable razor in her bathroom. Scars cover every inch of her; scars from her harassment, scars from peers, scars from boyfriends and friends that stabbed her in the back. She carries scars from cutting sessions that relieve the stress and pain from her life. She is a mute. Her hair is brown and limp, her clothes shabby and dirty. She will not leave the room, but Aileen visits often.
Angel is just that, an angel. She is the image she wishes to portray to her parents, the perfect daughter who wouldn't do anything wrong. She is less giggly than Aileen, but more optimistic and tries to laugh at everything. She tries to be a good example for her little sister, who needs the love and support of her family while she figures out where in the world she fits in. She sympathizes with all afflicted, her little sister, the girl crying over her boyfriend, the blind boy with cerebral palsy and learning defects, her Satanist friend who doesn't want God to live. Angel tries to help everybody, any way she can. She loves to help, and if she must sacrifice something to make another happy, she will and will also be glad.
In the common room, the six sit in chairs in a circle and focus on the floor in the middle. Molly is decked in seductive goth; Danielle wears one of her dad's large t-shirts and huddles in it; Danni wears her brown hair in two braids and a purple knit sweatshirt. Aileen is clothed in bright colours, compared to Catticus, who sits huddled farther back in her chair than Danielle, frightened of leaving her room. Angel sits forward, not the most intent, but the leader. She wears white.
As the six continue to stare, an image begins to form. An average sized girl with average looks is dressed in average clothes. The bow is in her hair, a too-large t-shirt on her back, a black sweatshirt unzipped overtop. The t-shirt is orange. Her pants are black, loose and baggy, torn along the hems. Her eyes are brown, her hair growing out from black to chocolate. She wears four necklaces. One for a friend in the USA, one holding a cross from him, one with his ring, and a plain chain he gave her to replace one he broke. Her wrists flash from three bracelets on either, to six or more on both, very different from each other. Her ears hang with small rabbits, crosses, and sparkly studs. She wears a half grin that doesn't quite erase the sad look from tear-stained eyes.