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:: Eyes Into Insanity by Stasia Collins ::

The soft fuzzy blanket of her eyelids were all that could comfort her. She knew where she was, what had happened to her, and yet she lied to herself about it. The lies didn't help, though, only the closing of her Maybelline eyes. Finally she opened them. Everything was exactly as it was before. The kitchen was a puddle of broken glass. The windows were all busted, as well as the glass doors on the cabinets, the condiment bottles, and dishes. The food had to be disposed of as well. It was neatly piled, raw and otherwise, into a corner by the sink. Some of it was on the wall, but for the most part everything had its proper place on the floor. There was a pile of silverware laid onto the table, which was barely standing, and the cleaning supplies were cleverly dumped out onto the matching chairs. She decided to try lying again, "Someone broke in" she said. "Who is this person who wants to destroy me?" She asked in vain. None of it helped, so she closed her eyes again. She attempted to calm herself with the Lords prayer, then opened up for another peek. Yes, still there. This time she noticed the walls were covered in that white substance from the fire extinguisher. As if the room needed more trashing! She couldn't stop thinking that it had to be cleaned before her husband got home. Where was she to begin? It was all so horrible, someone just deleted her usually pleasant little room. She dropped to the vinyl tiles, cried, and began to rub the rotten food on herself. It was all she could think of, it had to be cleaned off of the floor, and she couldn't bring herself to stand. The food was forming into a pate on her face and pretty golden hair. Then she added some glass. It was all crushed up, so it only scratched her instead of cutting, but the blood still oozed. Little slivers of glass were under her fingernails, stuck in her perfect teeth. "Gotta get this up!" she kept saying. The white stuff was making her cough, her kitchen is such a small area. If the windows weren't smashed out, who knows what would have happened? Finally her husband came home. He stood at the doorway, not too terribly surprised, he is a calm sort of man. "What in the hell happened here?" He had to ask several times. His beautiful bride wasn't responding due to the chemical-cough and blood/food paste on her face. He gently touched her, making sure that the wounds were minimal, and asked again, this time with some tenderness, "Honey, what went on in here? I need to know." She raised her eyes to where he could see them. They were shut so tight that he found it easy to imagine her with wrinkles. Her eyes were actually clamped, nothing was going to get inside of them. "I didn't get the job!" She finally spewed, as if vomiting. "They didn't want me, NOBODY wants me!" Her husband got up, opened the can of beer that he had brought home, and reached for the mop.

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