Suture and Le Tigre

Suture woke with a start. Raising her shaking hands to her face, she saw that they were clean, their usual markings not marred by discoloration. Careful not to disturb Le Tigre, she got out of bed to examine the rest of herself. She didn't see anything abnormal about her appearance. As a matter of fact, she did not even own a dress like the one she was supposedly wearing. She resolved to shake the thought from her head and get ready for her day. As she got dressed, Le Tigre rose from the bed, posing at the door. With everything packed and earbuds in, she left her home.

A block away from her home, she was accosted. A man thought is was necessary to enforce his smile policy. Before he could grab a hold of Suture, a growl ripped through Le Tigre. The man immediately backed away, hand raised in surrender. Suture rested her hand between Le Tigre's ears, it calmed down and turned, allowing suture to continue with her day. She finally made it to the boutique, put Le Tigre away, and started her shift.

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Suture had forgotten about the dream. She was going to a club. She even bought a new dress for the night. She danced and drank. Her friends rented a VIP room so they wouldn't be disturbed. Suture got too close to strangers, and enjoyed the environment she was in.

Suture didn't know that she was gaining a captive audience. Many of them preferred not to interact. Some thought that buying her a drink would gain conversation. Some thought that talking to her friends would gain access to her time. Some thought that a physical connect was the way to get her to talk. What they didn't know was that she was not looking to make anymore connections. She purposefully dressed the way she did to feel free. She was dancing to leave all of her woes on the dance floor. Most of the men who tried understood that she was not interested. Disgruntled, they elected to leave her in peace.

There was a man who tried all three tactics. Each failure did not deter him. It only made him angry. He even offered her something to take the edge off. He had been gentler than the other men who had pawed at her and her friends. She didn't even offer him her name. I'm a nice guy, he thought, why can't she see that? So he sulked in the corner, watching Suture enjoy herself.

Suture had enough fun for the night and had plans with her friends for the next day. She was hit with a strange sense of déjà vu as she walked up to retrieve her belongings. Le Tigre was in turn, also put on edge. She walked out of the club, towards her apartment, three blocks away.

The man from the club followed behind her, determined to prove to her that she was wrong. He began calling after her. A chill ran down her spine, her dream was beginning to play out. She was a building away from her apartment, so she turned to her would be attacker.

“I don't have anything. I just want to get home.”

This enraged the man even more. Does it look like I rob women? How dare she! Suture rook his silence to mean that a crisis was avoided. She walked into her apartment building and took the stairs. She was almost to the level when she was yanked back viciously. The rust on the railing scrapped into her skin, certainly taking a layer off. She landed with a thud on a lower level. The man pulled her up to her feet and attempted to dust her off. She pushed as hars as she could, which only angered him. He put both his hands around her neck and squeezes right,slowly lifting her off of her feet. A sadistic smile grew on his face as he watched her struggle. Before she lost all consciousness, she remembered Le Tigre. Luckily her bag was still around her body. She prayed that she would find it, prayed that she would survive this. Her fingers find the cold metal she was looking for. There was a sudden pop.

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“Sarah Uchi? Sarah Uchi is your name, right? Ma'am?” The paramedic was trying to get Suture's attention. But she was in shock, replaying every decison she made that resulted into what had transpired. Suture flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not your fault. No matter what you did, what you said, what you wore, this should not have happened. You did well.”

“Is he-”

“He's stable. They took him to the hospital to stitch him up and book him,” the paramedic stated. Suture nodded, not really paying attention. She has been preoccupied by Le Tigre, the gun her mother bought her before she moved away. Reality started to sink in, her dirty dress served as a backdrop to her bloodstained hands, deep scratch etched into her palm.

Rue

Sometimes it feels like I am breathing around a cactus. Each breathe pushes spikes deeper into my lungs. Inhale, the cactus pushes forward, climbing up,  digging in, embedding. Exhale, everything relaxes. My body is constantly flexing, always tense. I don't know if I can be wound any tighter until I am. I can almost feel my bones cracking as my muscles constrict around them. I feel like I can peel my skin back. The pain of removing layers from my already fractured body.

So I accommodate. I try to stay quiet. Keep to myself. Speak only when spoken to. Smile when approached. Then I are told I am mean. Standoffish. Fake. Rude. Then I engage others in conversation. Stick around others. Force myself to interact with people I are sure will hurt I when I know you can't take it. Now I am clingy. Needy. Overzealous. I spend so much time swinging between both sides of the pendulum, only to be knocked down.

So I take moments to yourself. Hide in corners, away from everyone. Weary of interacting with others. Afraid of adding more momentum to the swinging pendulum.

Then I realize I will never find peace. I will always say something off putting to others. I will want to peel my skin off with every negative word spoke to and about me. Logically, I know I can't hold anyone at bay. It is virtually impossible to keep the attacks out. So I hold everything in. The cracking bones, the desire to bust out of my skin, each impact from the pendulum swing. But I am growing tired. And I fear the day that I break down. That I stop stitching myself together, padding myself for impact. The day that I start letting myself feel the emotions I keep at bay are sure to have catastrophic repercussions. When I burst, break down. I may set the world aflame. I may break the ground around me.

For this reason, I pray that few people feel my wrath. Because I don't know what I would do.

#30WriteNow day 1

I went to a private school in Texas. After dropping out of there, I went to a pretty well off high school. I didn't do well there either. I graduated and went to a mediocre college. I failed out. I spent a few years trying to “find myself” and only ended up focusing on what other people were doing as opposed to what I should be doing.

I have loved literature since before I can remember. I used to spend my lunch breaks, hiding in the library. The happiest moments I have was discovering a new book in the library and trying to read it before my next class. If I didn't then I guess I had to take the book home. What else was I supposed to do? The things was, I didn't like being forced to read. Something about a school assigned book getting in the way of what really mattered made me irate.

So now I am 27, broke, unemployed, and unhappy, trying to find my way back to what I love. And also, trying to put more love and acceptance into myself, instead of putting it into someone else.

So, here's to writing. Here's to pouring out soul and heart, hoping to help someone else who needs to find their passion.