The Opening from the Book of Spells

                 I was in the center of the coffee shop; it has taken me a very long time to realize that I was not physically here, I was inside of a post. The post lasted for days; it was talked about for several nights. Brittany Swift screamed my name with anger, jealousy, and she blamed me for her boyfriend sending me notes and signals, he never told me he was dating the girl who whispered about everyone. He always gave me the impression that he hated her guts, he spoke badly about her weight, her insecurities, he always said she ruined every relationship she has. I was shocked to see what had truly been going on, behind my back. I saw Brittany write terribly about me, she said I pretend to be so innocent; she told people I was conceited, she talked about my private business when I was in the restroom, almost like she looked through the crack of the stall. She made rumor after rumor. "I am Disney princess." She talked about herself that she looked better than me and her boyfriend liked them bigger. Her post was long, and her grammar was poor, as it was misspelled. She started the post once Joe the coffee maker, threw her out of his shop. She spoke about the day I was acting strange. I looked at the comments scrolled down onto the page, no one put a stop to her dramatic outburst. Whenever lights went out at the coffee shop, I still stood here in the dark. Everything was too loud, too many people were talking at once, at first it would not come together. I spun in circles, and I saw people talking while they read the post, they sat with their bellies in the air as they held themselves, unable to contain the laughter. Silenced anger rose from my body, as bottled as I felt, I could not say or do anything. I just sat in the middle, listening. I was pulled in every which way, I walked in so many different houses, but mostly I stood inside the dark between the center of the coffee shop. Friends I thought I had name called me, they would laugh as they said I didn't have any sense, or two dimes to rub together. I was so stuck that I had forgotten how to speak. Emotions of anger grew and grew until I couldn't take it anymore. 

             I ran to door to door, just as I thought I finally reached to my bed for sleep, my wounded heart shattered into smaller pieces. I didn't think my heart was possible of breaking any further, but it had. I am not sure I still have a heart at this point. The bed I slept in, was not my own. This bed had white sheets, with lace that draped over the wooden legs. The room was deep sea blue, it was so dark in here, I could not see a way out. Banging fist pounded the walls, I felt it run through myself where my heart should have been. I crawled to my knees to run out of the bed, but I was too late. I was slammed against the wall, I felt light as a feather, and as useless as the broken remote control. I wanted to cry for help, but I knew I did not have anyone. My frizzy black hair was tangled, it was unhealthy. My hips had cuts and scrapes from the resisting that I gave. My legs felt like they had lost circulation. Tears whelped to the floor when the older man grabbed my hair, to whisper into my ear. His eyes were crazy cross-eyed, his tongue flicked on his teeth, he spent the night in my bed as he told me, "If you ever try to run away you stupid girl, you might as well kill yourself." 

           The next day I felt useless, I felt angry, I felt dead. I felt the feeling of nothingness inside of my heartbroken chest. People buzzed around me, I couldn't hear them, and neither did I really care. I couldn't trust anyone, fake smiles would run to me with the hopes of whispering, that they spoke to the batshit crazy girl. They just could not wait to talk about the next best funny thing, that I did or said. Honestly, I wanted to take their coffee cup and smash it up against the wall, I wanted to stand in front of everyone while I screamed, I wanted to scratch my face completely off. All the while, I did not have blood gushing on my bones. I just sat there in the dark, but it was sunny. My throat never cracked a cry, even though, I was listening. I have been through pain, I know it all too well, how to stand perfectly still. I am lost in the darkness and there is no one here to save me. I am here and I have been here for quite a while now. It's all the same, this never-ending spin. This endless cycle of trauma never ends for me. This evil laughter never stops joking. I was the gift that never stops giving. I am lost in ways that I have never been, but I never cried because I am used to pain. I live with sadness. Sadness crawls over me. Although just as I thought I was past the point of becoming broken, I bled for the feeling of knowing nothing. I had become nothing. My heart squeezed inside of my chest as it turned to ash and poured. I live in the dirt, but I stood on the ground. I am here today just by a thread. I look lively, but I do not breathe because I am dead, I don't want to remember what I am saying, and I don't want to remember what I feel. I whisper to myself as I flip pages of this book. I flipped and flipped. Screaming faces in front of mine, my cheeks swelled from the slapping. I needed a way out, while also needing a way in. I just wanted to know if I had a family, and I have no idea what kind of dangers I have trapped myself in. Souls breathed out of my throat as I fell to the floor, the only thing I could do, was follow the path that leads to the door. 

-Micah Vincent