Sterile

one of my favorite pieces I've written so far

 

            I sit on the edge of the bathtub while I wait for the water running out of the faucet to warm up. I am in a daze, staring blankly at the muted green tiles. I sit perfectly still. My body is still. My mind is still. The heart—the one that did beat within me-- is still. I know it isn’t possible. I know it isn’t there anymore.  But I can feel that stillness inside, all the way to my core. I turn on the shower and stick my wrist beneath the stream. As hot as I can stand it—perfect.

            My body begins to work again, as does my mind. Not that I think that’s a good thing. Perhaps forgetting would be best. Forget—ha. Might as well ask the sun to turn cold. Nothing is cold but your feelings for me. Somehow the forever you promised me was cut short when I told you my news.

I let the water flow over my body, and for a moment I feel human again. But just a moment. A quick look down snaps me back to reality. I feel the sickness in the pit of my stomach again, like so many times these past weeks. Yet this time it is for a completely different reason.

            I swear I can smell the alcohol on my body. Not the kind that you drink. The kind that sterilizes things. The kind that I smelled in the room with the metal equipment I had never wanted to violate my body. Does the scent linger on my flesh or is it just my imagination? I will never find out, as I soap down my body and am left with only the memories.

            The nauseating smell of antiseptic. The coldness of the table beneath my bare back. The pain as sharp as a knife piercing clean into my very soul. I turn the water hotter, but I am numb. And I realize no heat or steam will erase the pain, the guilt, those pictures burned into my brain.

            I turn off the water and find myself mesmerized with the drain. The water goes down the drain, circling it first. Swirls of water, both clear and red go around, against the white porcelain. It reminds me for a second of a candy cane, before I realize how sick that seems. I watch the last drops disappear down the drain, taking with them what was left of you and me.

           

Reviews

[No one]

I like this piece, especially the subtleties of the language, but I think I am a little confused.

Having read a few of the reviews below me, I feel obliged to say that this doesn't read like a story about a person committing suicide by slicing their wrists and revealing their thoughts as life slips away. (Please correct me if I'm wrong!) The narrator alludes to rape or molestation and a lingering smell that suggests that she (like many victims of rape) cannot get clean, cannot get rid of the scent of her aggressor. This would lead me to believe that the blood's source was an intimate area in need of medical treatment which she is too afraid or too ashamed to seek. However, the narrator uses words that foreshadow a suicide such as
"stick my wrist beneath the stream"

[Olivier Vintois]

Very powerful and moving. Loved it.

[Deb deb]

I read it twice to make sure I didn't misunderstand. I was pretty sure you were talking about abortion because everything you described is exactly how I felt when I had one. I have never dared to write about it, but you have inspired me to do so.

[JOSEPH SILVESTRO]

Abortion? I think, maybe not. I think its a fair piece of work, however, I feel that to much mystery, does not cause suspense but confusion. I think its ok to just say what you are writing about. The audience wants to know what your writing means. Mystery is ok for poetry but this is just my opinion. Write for life. Write for liberty. Write because...what else would we do. Peace.

[allonsy_doctor]

It's very good, but I'm not really sure what it means.
Could you explain??
Thanks.
Awesome piece

[Lee E. Powell]

I'm not very good at giving reviews but I thought this piece was very moving! But I'll be honest, I was a little confused at the end. All through the story I was assuming that she had just went through something heart wrenching, like a miscarage, an abortion or something like that and then when the sucide came into the scene it kind of through me off.

[Sharon Miller Bolander]

Powerful imagery, Tonya. I read this story as the aftermath of aborting the child of a man who flew out the door upon being told of a pregnancy. Scars are not always visual but often emotional; this piece gets to the core of feelings not easily shook off. Sharon

[bailish]

Well, I've read through this page of reviews, and while I believe that you're talking about an abortion that led to the lover leaving, the title led me in a different direction of discovery.

Could this be about a couple who wanted to have a baby, but the woman found out she was sterile?

[Heretic]

This was amazing. Definitely well written and full of imagery. I love the "candy cane" imagery. Even the first sentence of her sitting on the bathtub, it just grabs the readers attention. It works very well in first person. The whole concept of a persons last thoughts, is very intriguing and definitely caught my attention.

I am curious what was meant with the "for a moment I feel human again" portion. That is an interesting sentence. I know it mentions her heart is still. Perhaps I missed something. I say "her heart" because I am assuming it's a female, but I notice that it doesn't specify. Perhaps it is a male. I don't know and I guess it's not important.

[Heartstrings]

Powerful. It reads to me as if the female had an abortion that she really didn't want or doesn't feel good about now. The images that you create are effectively disturbing. I like that you don't come clean and clear if it is a miscarrage, abortion, cutting, suicide attempt or success, or what have you. Compelling read.