I made a deal with the Devil and the Devil was Me.
By firsttimewriter
- 1178 reads
When I was little we used to have an old mirror. It was huge with a wooden frame and it had a shelf that ran along the bottom. It sat on the floor propped against the wall in our outhouse and I used to sit in front of it and watch the girl who sat looking at me for hours. At first she would look just like me, but if I kept looking for long enough I would see her eyes begin to change and take on a life of their own. They would darken and glitter, her mouth would twist and sneer at me. It would scare me, but I would sit, fascinated, until I was called away.
When I got older I stopped sitting in front of the mirror. It lay covered with an old sheet, half forgotten, growing mottled and freckled with rust. I found myself fascinated by other things; music, books and ideas. I tried to organise who I was around the web of influences I allowed myself to absorb. They filled me with had big ideas and I made a deal with myself. I promised myself I wouldn’t be someone who judged others and that I would always forgive myself; that nothing was forbidden and everything was permitted. It was an old idea, one that crept into my mind unbidden and grew like a canker.
***
Another boozy night wrapped up with me stealing time with him, I told myself it was OK that I was sought the experience. I heard a voice, forgotten from my childhood whisper in my mind.
It’s OK.
And like a child prodding a bruise, I was curious how much it would hurt if I kept going.
We sat on the hardwood floor in a room lined with bare brick walls and two wrought iron pillars painted green. An old record player sat on a small wooden crate next to us. He played me Tom Waits First Kiss while we drank beer and tequila shots.
We sang along to Bob Dylan and said we weren’t tired so we could stave off the imminent late-night loneliness together. A joke, because neither if us was alone.
“Are you happy?” He asked me, the words floating softly between us.
Tears stung my eyes as I looked up at him through my lashes and shook my head. He reached out and stroked my face, his hand was hot, dry and smooth like paper. He leaned towards me and I breathed in his musky vanilla scent. When his lips touched mine I knew that I was lost. Even though it would hurt everyone, I had to let myself be with him, just once. He was the only one who really understood me.
“Are you sure?” he murmured into my mouth.
I just kissed him again.
Afterwards I felt a lead weight drop into my stomach as I realised who I was. I was a person who had sex with her best friend’s boyfriend, whilst my boy was asleep in the next room.
***
I made a New Year’s resolution to be more social, to stop saying no to everything. I had stopped going out after Mary found out I’d slept with Mark. Me and my boy had a party at our house.
“Go on Lizzie, try it.” Jude held the CD case with 5 little while lines out to me and offered me her rolled up note.
“I’m not sure,” I wanted to have a go; I wanted to know for myself what it was that made people want this so much.
“It’s not a big deal, just have a go,” Jude wheedled.
Say yes. The voice in my head was back.
“Oh OK,” and before I could over think it I put the note up my nose, and I snorted the line.
I felt my face numb and the powder trickle down my throat. I felt the numbness spread to my thoughts and a white hot light in the space between my eyes. My heart sped up and I felt everything sharpen and focus. I felt so sure, so right, so me.
“This is fucking great,” I grinned at Jude. She grinned back, her jaw and lips twitching and chewing.
***
My Boy liked me like this, he had always had this side to him. He tried to suppress it, but now that I wanted it too we had parties, we drank, and we smoked. I showed my friends how fun the white stuff was. We would have nights in, buy a bag and get high together. When I started getting nose bleeds I tried to laugh it off. It was embarrassing, just out of the blue my nose would start streaming blood. It happened at work, with my Mum and when I was sitting watching TV.
I took my friend Alice back to the house and persuaded her to try it. I took her to bed with me and the Boy. The voice told me You’re wild!
He fucked her while I watched. Afterwards, she tried to hug me and I pushed her away.
I spent the night at my friend’s house; her boyfriend found some old speed. We snorted it up. I didn’t sleep for two days and when I drove home I had a panic attack because everything I saw was a different shade of blue. I asked the doctor for help, but his expression of professional concern became disgust when I told him what I’d done. He gave me a sedative.
My blood pressure was 98 over whatever... too high for a 24 year old girl.
***
My period was late. That wasn’t that unusual, sometimes I skipped them these days. Ever since I started to ‘party’ (the Voice’s favourite euphemism for being an addict) I was kind of irregular. But I wasn’t feeling right. I decided to bring it up at my GUM appointment tomorrow. I frowned at the thought of that. I’d caught warts, I wasn’t sure if it was my fault or his, but now I had to go get them burnt off, again. “Miss Webber? This is your 3rd visit, is that right?” I nodded. “Well, for persistent cases we have a more aggressive treatment. Would that be something you would be interested in?” I nodded again, if it meant I didn’t have to come back here then I was up for anything. Now, you can’t use this cream if there is any chance you might be pregnant. Do you think you might be?”
Hmmmm. “Well, no I don’t, but my period is really late, but I miss them sometimes.”
“Well let’s do a quick pregnancy test to be sure, and then I’ll give you the cream.”
I went and peed in cup and they sent me to wait in the waiting room
***
“Miss Webber? This way please.”
I walked back into the doctor’s room.
“Congratulations, you’re pregnant.”
***
I counted back the dates, looked at the calendar. I felt a tidal wave of self loathing sweep over me as I realised I had almost certainly taken Coke whilst I was pregnant. I looked at the number my GP had given me for the abortion clinic.
“Saturday the 21st. 9 o’clock. OK. Thank you. Bye.”
***
Saturday night. After 7 hours in hospital, where I bled out my poor junkie baby. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of myself. I could barely see out. The world was blurred.
***
I twisted my arm, exposing the pale underside of my wrist. I stared intently at the blue delta of veins which decorated the surface of my skin like fine filigree. These thoughts were the only ones that broke through now. This unspeakable option that drew my gaze to my wrists was my ultimate comfort. It filled in the gaps between the seconds when my eyes were shut and I saw myself hanging, lifeless. I felt my last resolve slip away; I walked to the kitchen and picked up the knife. I ran a bath, nice and hot so I would feel it. I cleaned myself up and picked up the knife. Just one slice to let the pain out and it will all slip away the voice in my head whispered. It sounded just like mine. I shut my eyes.
***
When I woke up I didn’t know where I was. I lay without moving for a long time. I heard voices, but I didn’t care who’s they were. I fell asleep and when I woke up I was back in our old house. I was walking through the kitchen, out the back door and across the path to the outhouse. I pulled the heavy door knob, the black paint flaking and peeling beneath my hands. The light was different in here, more golden that the pale, thin light outside. I walked slowly, looking for something. I trailed my hands over the dusty wooden furniture and then I saw it on the floor, still covered by the sheet. I walked over and pulled it off. I looked in the mirror ready to see myself. But instead of what I was expecting to see, a person with worldly eyes full to the brim, bursting with experience and knowledge, I saw myself as a husk, a barely there fragile shell, with scrapes and chips, frayed round the edges. I looked empty, and my eyes were dead. I realised I’d done it all wrong.
All that time I’d been perfect when I started out, but now it was all gone and I would never get it back.
I woke up screaming and alone.
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