Beauty of Grace

The Night Before:

Carmen dropped me off at the old brick ballet studio.

“See ya!” She yelled out of the rolled down window of the brand new PT Curser.

I waved her away. Then taking a box of cigarettes out of my pocket, I lit one. I watched as the mysterious glowing flame touched the cigarette.

I stood out in the cold shivering. No wonder. I had a knee high skirt on with sandals and with fall swallowing the Earth, dressing like this wasn’t a great idea.

I shuffled into the old brick ballet studio that had been transformed into a living space. A house. The cigarette was still between my first and middle fingers. The room I stood in had mirrors along one wall. I saw a puff of smoke come from my mouth.

I jumped. The motion of the smoke scared me because of the mirrors along one side of the wall.

I looked into the mirror with the cigarette still in my hand.

 I looked at my face. My wild waves of light blond hair, my periwinkle colored eyes, my pale skin, and then there was the cigarette…

Its appearance overshadowed the rest of my features. It stood out in a bad way.

I hate myself, I thought looking at my image in the mirrors.

I found a hammer on the other side of the room. Then I went up to the first mirror. I shattered it with my anger and hate.

The second, the third, the forth.

By the fifth mirror, I paused catching my breath.

What am I doing?

I felt the hammer slip from my hands and clang to the ground.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, I thought.

“You’re so stupid!” I yelled. “Why the hell are you even alive?”

There was a strange echo.

I hurried to bed with tears in my eyes.

I threw the cigarette out the door. Stomped on it ‘cause I was mad (mostly at myself).

Then I slipped my pajamas on-short shorts and a tank top-and slipped under the thin white bed sheet.

Soon I was fast asleep.

The End

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