Day 80 – Edits

Word count: 793

 

 

Perhaps she was sleeping.

 

Everything seemed in soft focus. She could barely read the words on her computer screen. It was the early hours of the morning. Her glass of wine was half empty (had it ever been half full?) and a light breeze filtered in from the tiny sliver of open window. The birds were beginning to sing. The alarm clock for the world to wake as she, on her seventh glass of red, began to slowly drift off to somewhere else entirely.

She was flying. Could it be one of those dreams where she closed her eyes tight and the world began to slowly disappear beneath her feet? Was she flying high amongst the clouds or soaring just above the mountains? Maybe she was just drunk. Regardless, she needed to be. She needed to be drinking alone at six in the morning in order to face what she had done. She needed to have the cold, hollow morning light burn her eyes and make her see the reality of it all. She needed the alcohol to suffocate her senses and soften the blow. She needed to see clearly when everything else was all but in focus. She needed to hone the anger and turn the carnage into something else, something less catastrophic, and something less hurtful, less regretful.

Her insides reeled. She was feeling the effects of too much alcohol. It had been more than just wine she had been drinking. Several vodka bottles littered her bed as if they were sleeping kittens. She hiccupped and her neck suddenly couldn’t support the weight of her own head. She needed to be more in control. She caught sight of the framed picture she had stuffed behind her monitor and grabbed it, cradling the damn thing in her hands. As he smiled fixatedly at her, anger flooded inside her as if a damn had burst. She could feel her hands begin to shake and the desire to crush every living cell in his body heightened. But it piqued when she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass and her anger melted into decadent self loathing.

She imagined herself as a pincushion, a voodoo doll. She pictured each and every period of despair and sadness in her life as just another needle piercing the fabric. There was now nothing left of the fabric save a thin slice of material from which all the needles did cling. One more needle and the integrity would fail. She needed to be rid of them. She needed to remove each and every one of those needles and repair what little there was left at the end of it. Tonight, she had decided, was the time to execute her plan.

In a sudden surge of sobriety, the words on the monitor returned into clear focus again. She threw the frame across her left shoulder and grabbed the mouse, directing it to where it needed to be.

This was it. It was hard to believe, and drunk though she might be, she still could not believe that this was finally happening. She hovered the cursor over the folder. Her life in one giant computer folder. Within this folder was another one, and many more stemmed from that one. Folders filed within folders within folders. Every single detail of her life lay within this one destination on her hard drive. It was all linked in. It was all there. One edit within the files that this hard drive possessed and it would all change. She could have blond hair and blue eyes, she could be tall and skin or even a man. It could all be changed. But she did not want that. She did not want to be prettier or more talented; she did not want to cheat. Instead she wanted to do the one thing that she had been yearning to do all her life.

She clicked on the folder and entered her life. It was arranged by ascending year. She clicked and highlighted all the folders save the top three. She right clicked. The menu came up. She moved the cursor over one word. Maybe the wine was giving her the courage, or maybe her mind had finally been made up now that it was actually happening. Before now, she might have thought she would hesitate – perhaps even stop herself. But she completely surprised herself at the emotionless, mechanical nature of her decision. There was no pause for reflection, no waiting period to weigh up her options. She did what any normal person would do to purge files from a computer that they did not want to see again.

She hit DELETE and drank the rest of the glass as everything plunged into deepest dark.

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~ by S.G. Mark on December 26, 2011.

2 Responses to “Day 80 – Edits”

  1. STEPH!!!!!!

    I’m looking forward to friday 🙂

  2. STEPH!!!!!!

    I’m looking forwards to Wednesday 🙂

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