Free

The teen, no older than fifteen, looked in the mirror gazing at the reflection she knows- or once knew. She swayed her head, trying to get her hair to move, but alas to no avail. Her chocolate locks were stuck, tightened and placed between her neck and the high-necked, lacy white top she wore with a light blue sweater vest.

Hazel eyes flickered down trying to see her favorite dark black slacks, yet her vision was blocked by the pink-black checkered sweatshirt tied around her waist. A sigh escaped her lips as she tugged on the tightly bound sweater, almost looking as if she was ready to tear it off of her.

Instead, she tried to sweep across the room, moving anything from the abnormally tight attire. Although, she found herself almost tripping and only barely caught herself on her dresser. Afterwards, she found herself growling slightly, kicking off the black heels that landed halfway across the room, both moving to opposite corners of the room as if banished to the corner like a child put in time-out. The girl glared at both heels before tired eyes looked back at the mirror, the reflection bent over and panting.

Was she really killing herself this much? Was she really this tired? What was she doing?

What was she wearing?

In a flurry of motions, almost as if in slow motion, the right arm of the girl slowly rose as she stared at her reflection, standing up barely. Leaning towards the mirror she gazed at her reflection- blush and lip gloss noticeable. Then, the teen's hand became the shape a fist and flew towards the earth like a hammer and-

BAM!

The cold, hard wood that was once was smooth could be seen to have a little indention in it where the fist landed. Beads of sweat rolled off the fist, staining the oak wood furniture as the brunette panted heavily, arching over the dresser. The teen's bangs covered her eyes, but anyone who would look at her would notice a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Slowly, cautiously, the chocolate- locked girl came to see her reflection once more. The tired expression was gone, replaced with a smirk as the girl cackled out loud, not having a care in the world. These actions would have surprised the girl on normal circumstances, but no. Not now. Now she snapped.

Buttons flew across the room as the blouse was ripped apart, shreds of material scattering around the room as the tattered piece of cloth was thrown somewhere amidst the soon-to-be wrecked room. Next, that followed the blouse, was the sweater, hastily ripped away from her waist and chucked somewhere in the wreckage. She'll cut it up later.

The slacks came not long after. Although, instead of taking them off like she would have, she ripped them. Shreds of black fabric skewered across the room as they were thrown anywhere that the hazel-eyed girl deemed “too colorful.”

A maniacal laugh came from the crazy, broken girl as she glided ever so patiently to the bathroom attached to the room, continuing the desensitizing process. Then, her hand gently captured the handle to release a flood of water as she scrubbed her face, hands- anywhere actually- that had make-up on it. Looking at the reflection of herself once more she nodded and deemed herself ready, finally.

Dripping wet with still that smirk plastered on her face, she returned to the bedroom where she took in the scene she created- tattered material once beautiful pieces, and albeit expensive, clothing was strewn across the floors of the room that seemed to be a mixture of blue, pink, white and black piles of mush.

To someone else, it might have been messy, crazy, unruly, but to her it was perfect; the essence of perfection.

Skipping to the mirror once more her hands draped across the rough, uneven sides, splinters digging deep into her flesh. She gently yanked her hand to eye level to see blood dripping down where the splinters impaled her and chuckled before returning the hand to the position it was once in.

Finally, her hazel eyes proudly flickered to her other half. A crazy grin was plastered across her face as water constantly dripped down onto the dresser below her. The once straight chocolate tresses now folded into neat, uneven clumps as her hair was soaked, but was able to breath as the blouse was discarded long ago.

Her face, once a beautiful shade of light peach, was now pale and unruly with mascara dripping down from her eyes like a trail of black blood. Only a light gleam of pink lip gloss could be seen from the dry lips that formed a perfect smirk.

Her outfit was ripped to shreds, the only other pieces left on her was a blue tank top and barely enough black fabric to cover her bottom half. Having the heels off made her feet ache with pain, but to her that was what she needed, what she craved. After all, she could feel the blisters already forming.

The brunette licked her lips in satisfaction, no trace of the former her was here anymore. She was crazy, she was mad, she was the perfect representation of a snap and the worst part was- she loved it. The pulsing of her body, the flaming feel that her feet gave off, the untidiness, the way her blood rushed in exhilaration right out of the wounds in her hands.

It was just the opposite of what they wanted.

It was what she wanted.

No. Those people or whatever they were, were not in control of her anymore. No.

She was her own person, a crazy person, but her own person nonetheless.

With one final look at herself she smashed the mirror, a deep chuckle erupting as her right hand now had a mixture of splinters and shards of glass. Then, looking at the ceiling as if it was the sky she let out a loud, maniacal laughter for everyone to hear. She didn't even care if God heard, for all she cared, she was free.

No holding back now. She was free.