Pieces of You
– Fierce Fiction by Rebecca Wickens –
“I am so broken,” you say.
Raising my head, I am struck by this new look in your eyes. Mesmerized, I don’t even wonder as you open a door in your chest to reveal a space filled with porcelain pieces of a much smaller man. The beauty and fragility of this tiny man catches my breath.
“I am so broken,” you repeat, and I realize that the words are spoken by the shiny red lips of the tiny, shattered man lying inside the hollow in your chest.
Tilting my head, I feel my brow furrow and a tension develop in the outside corners of my eyes. This sudden show of vulnerability and trust overwhelms me; I have an urge to gather up these pieces of you.
Wordlessly, we agree that this is what I should do. You fill my outstretched hands, piece by piece. Too late I see that the edges are wicked sharp and so thin they are translucent. The glazed side of each shard shines like ice. The unglazed side is rough and absorbs the light.
The pieces sting as they bite into my skin and soon my palms look like a map overrun with bright red rivers. The rivers form delicate waterfalls as the blood wells over my bent wrists.
My eyes go wide with pain. You sigh with deep satisfaction.
“Your warmth,” you say, your voice low and breathy. “I feel better already, but I’m still so cold, so broken. Hold me close, my dear.”
Staring fearfully into your dark eyes, I bite my bottom lip and pull my hands, wet and dark now, to my chest. The sharpest bits cut through my blouse and dig into my breasts. Tiny pieces of you wriggle under my skin. Seeking warmth, they burrow deeper, cutting through muscles and sinews, slicing between ribs.
I gasp and tears roll down my cheeks, but you burrow still deeper. My blouse darkens with blood. The blood seeps and creeps down to the waist of my jeans, my thighs, then onto the floor.
The light in the eyes of the man I thought you were dims as the broken man that lived inside you grows stronger. He bruises my heart, crushes the breath from my lungs and cracks my bones.
He grows so big and so strong that I sink heavy to the ground. Exhausted from the weight and unable to draw a breath, I lie down and water the earth with what blood I have left.
When he feels strong enough, the not-so-tiny man pushes open my ribcage like a pair of double doors and makes his entrance into the world. Turning, he looks with pity at the empty sack of me that he’s left behind, adjusts his brilliant smile and strides away.
About the Author – Rebecca Wickens
Rebecca Wickens is a corporate governance professional and mother of two young children, based in Waterloo, Ontario. After a series of major professional and personal life changes over the past two years, Rebecca is seeking to (re)discover who she is and where she wants to go in life. Writing fiction and creative non-fiction is one of the tools in this journey.
Did you like this story by Rebecca Wickens? Read more fierce fiction, like:
Someone to Watch My Back
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