torsdag 29 juli 2010

Grand Dessert

Trying out "Three Word Wednesday" =)

The words: abuse, cramp, hatred.

Grand Dessert

The first sign was dull. A familiar cramp in her lower abdomen and she stiffened, ever so slightly, a frown marring her delicate features.

Calmly she finished whisking the lemon cream she was preparing for her grand dessert, rinsed the whisk and put it in the sink. She put cling film over the bowl and placed it in the fridge, second shelf. The frown deepened.

As she hung her apron on its hook on the door, she felt the cramps intensify. She closed her eyes and took a moment to longingly sniff her beautifully starched apron, its lavender scent soothing her.

But there was no turning back now. The corners of her mouth twitched uncontrollably as she walked towards the bathroom.

She undressed. No clothes would be soiled by the toilet. She tied her hair in a firm bun in the back of her neck. From a cupboard she took out a blue bath sponge, a bottle of transparent nail polish and a roll of paper tape. Carefully she opened the bottle of nail polish and painted a small amount on the rough side of the sponge. She left the bottle open on the washbasin, the strong scent emerging from it seemed purifying. She pressed the soft side of the sponge to her face, covering her mouth and nose with it, then she wrapped the paper tape around her head, securing the sponge with it. The smell of nail polish was overwhelming, dizzying, and evoked her intense gratitude.

The cramps were becoming impossible to resist and with a profound feeling of hatred she filled the clean toilet bowl with paper, its shiny surface would not be touched by… it. She sat down, closed her eyes, pressed her hands against her stomach and inhaled her chemical relief. Then she let the enema do its job.

She shivered with disgust as she wiped herself, flushed and cleaned. Scrubbed, cleaned, scrubbed.

Abuse, she thought, this is abuse. Why? Why these repulsive needs? To be nothing more than a slave under the filth of this despised flesh.

Back in the kitchen she continued with the preparations for the dessert, the red skin on her hands burning from the scrubbing. She forced herself to breathe slowly, composed herself and pushed back the memories of her previous actions to some obscure place in her brain. At least, she thought, there´s now a whole week until I´ll have to go through it again.

She smiled.

8 kommentarer:

  1. My god! Woman, I am knocked over by this story.

    I didn't know which way you were going with this, and I kept reading faster and faster, trying to figure out what was about to happen before it actually could.

    This is a stark picture of self-abuse. Dark and lonely, even, in its way.

    Thanks for joining in the fray at 3ww!!!

  2. Those were strong words to work with. The image of this tightly wound woman in her perfect kitchen was the first one that appeared so I went along with it and this is how it told itself...

    Thank you so much for commenting and for showing me the way to the fray =)

  3. Hmmm. What can I say? Well written about a woman in real need of help...can we say compulsive disorder? Yeah?

    Wow. Disturbing.

  4. Hello "K"!

    Thank you so much for the attention and the kind comment. My favourite parts were "Well written" and "Wow", but I also liked "Disturbing" =)

  5. This is a great picture of quiet insanity. Some people can look like they've got it all together, while behind the scenes they're falling apart, destroying themselves.

  6. Hey bunnygirl!

    Yes, that´s what I went for, so glad it came through!

    Thanks for reading and commenting =)

  7. Hey Thom!

    3WW is great fun and a good writing exercise!

    Thanks for running it and thanks for commenting, it´s much appreciated =)