d i s T O R t i o N

Nobody is perfect...

p e r f e c t i o n

My eyes gently fluttered open to reveal a fuzzy vision of�"if I can correctly make it out�"a boring, white ceiling�"so boring, so void, so plainly white.

Perplexed of where I was, as my memory seemed to be of no use to me currently, I craned my head to the left where a boring white door lay restlessly at the side of the door, slightly cracked though it was barely visible, and then I craned to the right, where a vase of beautiful bunches of assorted roses sat on the table next to me, next to the wall where closed windows were taped on tackily. I smelled the air, sensing a humble, almost uncomfortable but surprisingly comfortable to an extent atmosphere, and concluded that I was, in fact, in a hospital of some sort. The only question left was why? Why would I be in a hospital?

I attempted to sit up from my bed, but for some reason, in doing so, a sharp pain in my arms stopped me from any further movement. Curious as to how that particular pain was caused, I shifted from my bed slightly to move the sheets from my torso�"in the very least�"to have a good view of my arms, and, sure enough, they were bandaged tightly and fingers seemed naught, the bandages showing only tiny bulges of what used to be fingers.

Normally, the average person would’ve panicked, having lost their fingers, but… that wasn’t what I was feeling of the moment. With my fingers gone, I wondered, what else was I missing?

Upon further investigation of the room, I noticed a mirror next to the beautiful vase I had noticed before and flailed to grab it, using both of my hands to cling onto the handle, albeit the pain was unmistakable. I turned the mirror around as to face the correct side, and brought it up to my face, finding an image of a hideous woman in front of me, having her left eye bandaged heavily (ah, no matter her vision seemed fuzzy at first. Her single eye was probably adjusting to having to work alone); her hair�"or, at least, the sparse remnants of it�"horribly tousled; her nose deeming the same fate as her fingers; and her lips�"oh, her ugly lips�"scratched, a scar running through them in a ragged diagonal. That woman started giggling softly. That woman, I knew, was myself, a former beauty obscured. At least, that’s what I assumed I was. My memory still hasn’t served me its justice yet.

With that, a small sigh escaped my lips. I leaned back on my bed and put the mirror aside, to my right, and gazed at the boring ceiling again, contemplating on my current state. The fact that my body was brutally bandaged and seemingly abused wasn’t much for surprise with me, because, well, I am human after all. This is the downside of being mortal, having the ability of being scarred and burnt and corrupted so easily, so there’s really no need for panic within me. However, the one thing that troubles me is how exactly I became like this. There are so many possibilities as to how I’ve become the way I am currently, like maybe having gone through a car accident where I was hit and later burnt by some special flammable substance. Yeah, that’s probably it�"I’m almost pretty sure it is. If it’s not, then oh well. This matter doesn’t bother me as much anymore.

I stared into the mirror again and looked at the same ugly woman for the second time, and in the instant glared at it stupidly, even though I knew that it was me. She was such an eyesore; oh, it pained me to look at her so.

I wonder, what did I look like before all of this?

Another sigh, one of aggravation, escaped my lips. There are so many questions that are being asked, but yet there are no answers. I’m not too much for patience, either, so this is definitely getting to be pretty annoying.

I closed my eyes restlessly, letting the sounds of nothing be succumbed into my body. However, as my peace of mind started to sink in, there was a stinging noise to my left. I craned my neck once again to see the slightly opened door, wondering why on earth someone would turn the doorknob if it was already opened in the first place, and awaited for the person responsible for such troubling disturbances. As it turned out, it was the nurse�"and, in the instant I looked at her, I was completely filled with spite.

Her looks were simply appalling. She had long, bleached blonde hair that clamped at her neck loosely. Her eyes were a crystal blue that was simply to die for, her lips a luscious shade of bright blood red, her expression that of an absolute angel, the wrinkles on her face illuminating that feature even more so�"and, her face was absolutely flawless of scratches, whereas I was concerned… I was practically filled with imperfections!

I touched my cheek with one of my bandaged, pathetic excuses for non-existent fingers, and smiled gently, casting a huge�"and, I bet, ugly�"grin at her. She mirrored the same exact grin as mine, though hers was so…so… beautiful.

“Hello there, Mrs. Robinson,” she murmured softly, placing a tray of various items next to the vase. “I see you’re wide awake this morning. Care for your breakfast? I’ll be glad to assist you in your feeding.”

Without even knowing what my food was, I nodded my head, not wanting to speak to a being such as her, and saw her hint a small smile. Such an annoyingly kind person… ah, it disgusts me so.

She picked up a spoon from the tray she had brought in and scooped up an icky, peach-colored substance. She then put her hand under it in case of spills and pushed it towards my lips, letting it settle in my mouth as she waited for me to scrape off every single particle of food on it, and then pulled it back out, aiming for another gross scoop of… whatever that supposed edible thing is. Meanwhile, I kept the food tucked away under my tongue and stared at the tray, scrutinizing every object on it.

There was the clean white bowl of food�"otherwise known as my “breakfast”�"that sat in the middle. Napkins with intricate designs imprinted on them lightly were gathered to the left of it, and atop the napkins was a… fork�"a sharp, pointy, violence-prone fork.

As I heard her mumble to open my mouth, I quickly chewed the food formerly under my tongue down, as much as I detested the taste and texture of it, and looked at her solemnly, opening my mouth to speak for once. “The room… it’s depressing.” I wrinkled my nose and nudged my head towards the direction of the windows. “Could you open those… maybe… just a crack?” Talking was such a chore in my current state of being, but it was well worth it, as the little fool fell for my innocence and began walking towards the windows in an attempt to have my wish granted. This opportunity was so easy to make… and such an ease of gaining advantage of.

I looked at the tray once more and eyed the object I wanted. Then, with one quick swoop, I grabbed at it quietly and slid it between my arms, hiding it under my sheets and awaited for her return. Once I heard the wind gently rush into the room, making her homely yellow locks flow back in the same direction, I grinned, watching her take small steps back to my bed. She looked at my awkward smile and forced her own stupid smile on her face.

As I looked at her and reminded myself of my current position, stabbing her with the fork would be a difficult labor, and there was a huge chance of failure. Alas, there was also the difficulty of having to explain that a fork pierced through that ugly face of hers was an accident. There had got be a better way of killing that woman….

I sighed and looked at the vase again, its former beauty turning into an image of pure hideousness within my one eye. “Those flowers… I’m allergic. Dispose of them.” She handed me a funny and perplexed expression, but did so anyway, rushing up to grab the vase and hugged it close to her chest, walking up to the door slowly.

I smiled and took my weapon of choice out from under the covers, throwing it roughly at her. Though there was a lack of strength and aim involved�"and my arms were heavily screaming at its pain due to the stress I had put on it�"it managed to be beneficial in my plan of murdering that woman, as it landed in front of her, thus she unconsciously stepped on it and tripped, falling face first with the vase crushing beneath her torso.

The only thing I heard was the cracking of the glass. There were no screams, no painful cries of terror, no nothing but the noise of the vase breaking�"and, it was oddly soothing for me to hear, ringing through my ears like a symphony of the most relaxing noises.

Like this morning, when I had first opened my eyes to look at the boring ceiling, I craned my neck to look at the left. That door�"so plain before�"was now splattered with splotches of red, the same exact color of that woman’s lips. Ah, what a work of art!

My eyes glowered at the woman on the floor, looking at the pooling blood around her, looking at her hair, having hints of red like the door. I pathetically clambered out of my bed, falling to the ground stupidly, and crawled towards the body, pushing her so she laid on her back. I looked at the shards of glass sticking out of her chest, looked at the bright liquid dribble down her wounds, and then stared at her face. It was almost as ugly as mine, having fresh blood splattered evenly on her face, her eyes an empty void of orbs… but it was missing something.

I grabbed the fork and stabbed it on her forehead, laughing with such mirth at the blood trickling down her face. Then, I grabbed one of the protruding pieces of glass from her chest and scarred a dent resembling a smiley face on her pale cheek. “Ah, perfection….”

With that, a smile of content washed over my face. I stood up on my feet (luckily, they seemed to be in better condition than the rest of my body) and stumbled off to the window, where I stared outside. I was on the first floor�"oh, what my luck is right now!

I swiftly hung my leg over the window and fell out, landing on my back, pain surging throughout my entire body. I laughed again and regained my normal composure, and began to run away from that prison, each rough step I made sending painful chills throughout my body. But let me tell you this: the pain was nice.