Meteor

A short story about a girl who chooses to see herself as a meteor.

Belle struggled to sit down on her aunt’s front porch, keeping in mind the scars on her leg and her back. The door was newly painted, she realized, as she placed her weight on the doorknob to seat herself with the least amount of agony. With a quick release of the handle, her backside quickly made contact with the creaky, wooden floor producing a quiet thud. Having walked all the way from her uncle’s house had already pulled out any energy she had left and letting herself relax seemed like the only choice she had, if she wanted to live anyway. Breathing heavily, she managed to trace back her thoughts and remind herself why she was here in the first place �" to deliver the letter.

 

She slid the letter through her aunt’s front door, trying to make the least amount of noise. The ceaseless, chilly breeze caressed her wounds, almost instigating against her attempt to keep her groans inside. Perhaps, the idea of letting out a scream did cross her mind, hoping somebody would hear her, but she buried this thought and took in another long, intermittent breath. She sat there; leaning against the wall, anticipating the sound of an unlocking door. She felt her heart tremble as she looked down upon her bare legs and the horrendous and bloody scars it now retained discerning they were not even close to the deeper scars carved inside of her. Before she could begin the debate over crying, tears had already flooded her eyes and were flowing over her cheeks and onto her tattered dress.

 

She collected the fragments of her emotions and stood up; she knew it was a long way to the well behind her aunt’s house which meant that she couldn’t sit here all day and cry, not if she wanted to live anyway. She began to walk down the porch stairs, as quietly as she could, until her foot slipped and she crashed down to the floor. She hurriedly put her hands down in an effort to avoid the concrete ground causing any further damage to her already bruised back. No use. She sat there, tightly shutting her eyes, grinding her teeth and enduring the sudden pang of pain from a broken glass. Recovering from the shock, a few seconds later, she slowly picked her bloody hands up and ripped out the shard of a broken beer bottle from the right of her palm. She watched her blood flow out, coursing its way down to her dress.

 

The utter pain and misery reminded her of the day she met her uncle, it almost felt like deja vu. She remembered it being a Saturday morning, exactly 2 months ago, when he had called her over from her aunt’s to talk about her admission to Yale and how he assured her to secure a place using his network to save her the hassle. She had remembered how happy she was, but how it didn’t last for long. Her uncle had always been kind and compassionate with her, ever since she was a young girl. He was overly supportive when an unfortunate event had been the reason for the death of both her parents. Ever since, she had been living with him and her aunt, leading an average, middle-class life. The only ill-fated thing that happened, after her parents’ death, was the separation of her uncle and her aunt, which is why they now lived in separate homes. She, however, decided that she would divide her time between them and would live with them each a week.

 

Without her having noticed, a smile grew on her face, as the walk down memory lane seemed to wash away her discomfort and anguish. And just one stop down that lane stole her smile as fast as it had appeared. That one Saturday, she remembered as clear as the broken glass, when she walked into her uncle’s room to serve him his routinely morning tablets. That day, she remembered holding a glass of cold water and three different colored tablets. Her uncle, who sat leaning against the bed, as he usually did, had for the first time seized her arm instead of the glass of water. She felt the same, strong grip of his manly hands as she did back then. He jerked her in an attempt to pull her closer to him while, in shock, she still tried to catch up with what was really happening. She remembered the sound of the glass shattering just like her trust and faith did, bringing her to an endless river of tears. She pushed back and inevitably stepped on the million broken pieces, screaming, more for attention than for expression of pain. He got off his bed, reached out for her hair and successfully pushed her to the sheets. She fell, letting out screams and calls for her aunt, hoping somebody would hear her. What happened after, she believed, was nothing she wanted to remember. If anything, she had faint memories of being tied to the bed with handcuffs.

 

For 2 months, her uncle had been making sure she was fed and kept properly to ensure that he was the only cause of torture and sorrow to her, fulfilling his long drawn desires and dreams. For her, however, her life had become a nightmare. But she quickly reminded herself of where she was no, brushing off any further thoughts. A relieved smile re-grew on her face, allowing her to eventually get up and walk herself to the well.

 

She began her journey with positive thoughts. She now knew that her story would not remain in a small, suffocating and sullen room. She was satisfied with her letter and was sure her aunt would bring her to justice. With her aching pace, she managed to bring the well to her sight in almost about half an hour. She bent down, clenching her waist with her hands and took a deep breath.

 

She looked down into the well, seeing her reflection for the first time in two long, saddening and painful months. Ignoring her tangled hair, torn dress, bare and muddy body, she found a meteor. Her still and dark reflection reminded herself of a dead meteor. She thought to herself that life itself was a meteor. You burn away a little bit over time from that huge rock as you try to shape and find who you are and inevitably, time wins the race and you crash to the ground, like you were never really there in the first place. You shine and glow for a while, but that’s about it. She realized that her meteor had to burn out a little; this is all it was, a bump in the road. Until here she was, a rock. The littlest she could be, but she was free. Everything continued to be as it was, just without her. She was going to doom herself and find her own freedom. She wanted to find out what crashing and burning out felt like and so, without any hesitance, she closed her eyes and let herself fall inside, losing just a little bit more of herself. As she hit the surface of the water, a loud clap and a sudden jerk caused her to open her eyes and find herself in his room. It was the bang of the door he had just slammed behind him, as he walked in with a cigar in his mouth, smelling of beer and alcohol. She let out a scream of extreme agony and spit out cusses at him. She wasn’t ready yet; there was more of her to be burnt and more of herself to be lost. It was at this moment she wished there was not much to her. This moment when she wished that she was weak and had already given in to his wounds and torture. She let out another scream as he placed his hands on her cheek and tightly held her arm. There was more of this meteor to be burnt and she couldn’t run away just yet, not if she wanted to live anyway.

Author's Note

Please give your honest views.