Self-Portraits
Francesca Rainosek
It was early in the morning when Rowan pulled the soapy shower curtain back and
stepped out of the clawfoot bathtub. She was no longer under the stream of scalding water.
Steam evaporated off her skin, and she shivered due to the drastic temperature change.
She left little puddles with every step towards the yellowed mirror hanging over the sink.
With the sweep of a shaking hand, she wiped away the condensation that clung to
the mirror's surface and replaced it with her own reflection. Gazing intently, the seventeen-year-old took note of her acne-ridden complexion and compulsively-shaped eyebrows. The girl’s lip trembled, so she bit down until she tasted iron. Seeing her dripping
hair begin to curl, she closed her eyes and tousled her bangs passively.
Rowan was not a stranger to anxiety. It seemed to haunt her every breath with its
cruel whispers of what could have been or what could be.
A neatly folded pile of clothes sat on the towel shelf. She grabbed her underwear
and began to dress. Her fingers unfolded the lacy straps of her bra. She dreamt of highend lingerie, but settled for whatever was less than ten dollars and would cover her small
breasts.
Breasts. Ass. Hips. Arms. Legs. Neck. She examined it all, when her eyes finally fell
on her abdomen.
Rowan gently placed her fingers on her concave stomach, afraid to apply any pressure.
“Idiot. That doesn't matter now,” she reminded herself.
She could not help what happened next. It was the tightening of her chest accompanied by an erratic, almost masochistic, heartbeat. Knuckles white from holding on to
the sink, she felt gravity pull her down through the tiles. Her body slumped against the
sink, her soul descending into hell.
“Baby, please,” her live-in boyfriend said, his arms gently trying to pull her up off
the floor. “Don’t cry.”
“She’s gone,” she sobbed.
“I know.”
The stern school bell had just finished echoing through the halls when the art
teacher walked into her classroom. Posters of Kahlo and Van Gogh littered the walls along
with students’ work. The darkness of the unlit room was accompanied by the humming of
the radiator and the faint breathing of a senior skipping sixth period.
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