Z~ Simple Happiness

"For God's sake!"
The pen clattered off the wall and fell to the floor with a
click.
The long auburn hair brushed over the papers on the desk, shifting it
aside or off the edge, sending it fluttering to the ground.
Words and phrases and numbers danced behind her eyes, taunting her.
Teasing her with the fact that she didn't understand them.
In a moment of utter rage and frustration, her hands swept across the
wooden surface in a swift, sudden motion, sending everything crashing
to the brown carpet. As the dust settled and her hair found it's place
over her eyes, Caydee breathed deeply, inhaling... exhaling...
inhaling... exhaling. She did this ten times, and again.
Her mother had taken her to yoga once. It hadn't worked out all too
well. Caydee had found it impossible to relax and found her eyes
darting around the classroom while the rest of the old ladies and
middle-aged housewives found their inner tranquility and fell into an
almost hypnotic state of relaxation.
She had found her eyes skitting more than once to the tall, graceful
man that took the classes. He seemed to walk in such a way that
reminded her of swans or tall arches that formed church doorways. He
had an almost visible aura of peace and placidness about him. Caydee
had admired this man immensely. He had seemed so in control of his life
and everything that he did, he did with a kind of quiet determination
that Caydee had always longed for.
Longed for but never achieved. It was a very distant dream for this
litle girl. Although 17, Caydee was slightly built and seemed slight in
self almost to breaking point. She had been treated like a crystal
ornament for as long as she could remember, to be admired for it's
beauty, but from a distance and not to be touched.
Caydee lacked very much in family relations. She had no real bonds with
her parents or anyone close to her. Her parents hugged her, but as they
would a very sophisticated auntie or mother-in-law. Her parents kissed
her, but on both cheeks and with a delicacy that she despised.
Exams were looming in the near distance and anxiety had overcome her.
She held her hands in front of her, turning them over and examining
them, it seemed, for the first time. Her fingers shook slightly, but it
wouldn't affect it too much. Her wrists didn't seem to attach her hands
to her body as she reached for the instrument lying on the desk. Her
hands appeared to float before her, as if not her own, but those of a
ghost who was haunting her.
Caydee McLaren opened the blade of the scissors and slit her wrists,
tenetively at first, watching the thins lines of blood appearing on her
white skin. Her heart pounded in her head, blood rushing and throbbing
in her ears.
Her lips were pursed as she slashed the skin higher up on her arm,
watching with childlike fascination as droplets of blood fell to her
exam notes on the desk.
Caydee was not at all feeling suicidal... she never did when she did
this. Death was not the objective, more to feel the exhilarating pain
and the tingling that coursed through her body, like adreniline rushing
through her veins.
Her eyes did not see the scars, criss-crossing over her wrists and arms
and the still healing slits from the previous day.
Her mind did not register the pain that warned her body that it was
beeing violated, only twisted it and turned it into a feeling of
accomplishment.
All of a sudden, like a lightning bolt shooting into her brain,
embedding itself into her conscience, she realised what she was doing
again and stood abruptly. Her tears tumbled foward, trickling down her
flushed cheeks.
The scissors tumble to the ground and in the distance the bathroom door
is heard slamming, and the retching of a little girl shatters the
stillness of the afternoon...