Dust

She couldn’t remember the time before pain, only where it had started. There, at the base of her skull, where you could trace the first few knobs of her spine. Like pieces of glass had been slipped under her skin, wedged into even the tiniest of gaps in her frame. The pain branched out, spreading down her back and across her shoulders. Sometimes she was too slow, too weak maybe, to cut off its reach; her fingers would become stiff and uninterested in bending, and her elbows would follow suit. She’d have to force her joints to obey, twisting and pulling and jerking her limbs until she heard a pop or crack, the sign of their submission. As time passed, she was certain this was a fight she’d one day lose.

It was like learning to ride a bike, she thought, a pursuit she’d given up only after a couple of days. She remembered the way the bike pedals knocked against her shins, harsh and heavy like she was being scolded. She’d made a turn and found herself going downhill, and distrusting the brakes, she’d thrown herself off and to the side in a panic. The feel of her kneepads grinding and scraping against the pavement, the hollow sound of her helmet hitting the ground, the pebbles and debris found in her scratched up skin. In the moments after impact, her body had felt like it was buzzing, but it was dim, and she wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Like she’d been standing inside of a bell that had just been rung, feeling had been flushed out, and she’d found her way back inside the house in a daze, knowing there was a trembling happening inside of her but unable to acknowledge it. She’d rinsed out the grit and dirt and bandaged her wounds, washed her face, and crawled into bed. Only then did she realize she was shaking, every inch of her lighting up in pain and despair, and she’d fallen asleep crying.

That was her life, now- she was always in the aftershocks, moving on autopilot, unhindered by the condition of her body until it became too much to bear. Only another, stronger jolt could break through, everything reducing back down to that hum that laid under her skin. It was either that, or steady doses of pain medication, though she worried the pills would one day create a hole in her stomach, like her mother had warned. She was growing tired, and her body was growing more and more rigid. She thought about giving in, about letting her body become wooden and heavy.

And then one night, she felt it. A burst of pain, then another, white hot and vicious. She stumbled into the bathroom, flinching and trying to curl away from herself, turning and pressing her face against the wall. She’d never known pain like this; it felt like hands, twisting and gathering up flesh before pulling it apart and to the side. That must’ve been what it was, as true as it was absurd. Once or twice the grip slipped, and then fastened back on even tighter, tearing her back open. It was slow, it was agonizing. A flare of pain there, near her side- teeth, biting and ripping her open, desperate to hurry things along. Her skin opened up, like a page unfolded.

One kick, two. Her lower back gave out, with no time to brace herself. Bone snapped and splintered, clacking against the bathroom tiles, knocking against the base of the toilet. Her head smacked into the wall and she slid to the floor, her arms too weak to hold herself up. They could only spasm and twitch, confused like dredged up fish. The being inside her stepped out. She looked to the side, trying to see.

A foot there, with smooth heels and slim ankles. The legs were bare, and long. She studied the creases in the knees, and thought of velvet dinner tables, with napkins carefully folded and pressed into little white birds, placed delicately beside the silverware.

All she could be certain of was a lightness within her, one she hadn’t felt in. Years, maybe. Like laundry, warm from the dryer, like the milk scent of babies, like the coolness of the bathroom floor she could now feel beneath her. All sensations and emotions she hadn’t let herself indulge in, that had become distant from her. She let it pass through and overtake her. The pain was gone, and with it, so was she. This lightness wasn’t hers to own, though it was kind in sending her off. She looked at her hand, seeing how it crumbled into dust. She watched the decay travel up her arm, and saw this new being step in the remains, toeing a line through the grain. Thank you, she wanted to say, but her mouth couldn’t fit around the words. She shut her eyes and let herself wither, content to coat the soles of the being’s feet.

Early morning, with its orange light that spread through her room. She blinked and rubbed the sand out of her eyes, fumbling out of bed and into the bathroom. She leaned in close to the mirror, studying how easily she could flex her hand, testing how high she could stretch her arm. She reached into her mouth and traced the grooves of each tooth. Easing back, she looked down at her feet, and then to the door. A trail of sooty footprints had been left behind.