Sound of Frustration

“What the fuck makes me so awful?!” asked the little girl rudely, and the whole room faced her bright red cheeks, fueled with rage. “Why the fuck do I have to be so alone all the time? In this fricking household where pretty much everybody should be in some institution for the deranged and dangerous?!” she yelled again, and now everybody focused on her small lips with a little tear from which a bit of blood came through.

With her auburn eyes, luscious curly hair, and sharp teeth that unknowingly bit her lip, she resembled a somewhat petrifying mix between a small werewolf and a bold, cold-hearted vampire. Her intentions weren’t known, but from what everybody could gather, fury possessed her mind, and it doesn’t seem that it will surrender any time soon.

After the very odd and unexpected fit that she just threw, her little legs stumbled around the staggering number of round tables in her proximity, and although the room was as long as a running field, everybody got startled when the heavy wooden door angrily shut, her fragile frame disappearing into the hallway.

Her thoughts were raising about as much and loudly as her upset heart was beating swear words in Morse code. Cheeks filled with a vicious glow cooled down with every tear that fell down her upturned smile.

She was lost. She was powerless. Furthermore, she couldn’t get out of this situation since it was she herself who created such an obstacle; not that it would have been easy not to become so enraged after the uncalled-for scrutiny she received the whole evening.

Impacted by this mind-altering hatred, her most important goal was to destroy this place. Every wooden hall, every cold room made with hard rocks, and every devilishly looking statue she respected for all those years because of the eeriness they imposed.

It didn’t take long for her to grab the first statue of a little gorilla, which she received years ago and has had nightmares ever since. “It’s time to say bye bye,” commented she when her petite figure bent over the weight of such a weighty object.

Although she might not have looked it because of the everlasting frown covering her face, the pain she was feeling, and the memories that were flooding her mind like a river during flooding season, were hurting her and scraping her lungs with every breath.

The thought of her relative. An old lady with a weak smile and tired body, who gave her this ape.“Look after my monkey,” pleaded she when her sight registered the unpleasant expression on her face, “you’re a lonely person, I can smell the anger, you know.” She blushed, since there was no way she could have expected this statement. “Take him, and you’ll never be alone again, I swear.”

The girl thought to herself, “I can’t just say no to a gift from a dying woman,” as she reached out to grab the odd object from her shaking hands. Now the situation was quite different. With a bent and unnatural posture from the object she was pressing on herself, her chest was facing the wind on the balcony. There was a fair amount of distance between the floor to which she was pinned and the ground covered with gray grass and sunburned wheat.

Instead of passing the thing to the wind and cruel gravitational forces, neither her fingers nor her toes made a single move. She looked as if she were frozen. If there were a person not knowing the context of her situation, they might assume that she is a statue as well.

Maybe not this one, maybe… she pondered like a well-paid philosopher. There was conflict between the old lady and her goals of destruction. There was conflict between the love in her heart and the hatred that controlled every movement she made for the last hour.

She wanted to commit this “heinous crime” as she has called it herself, but then it hit her. It won’t hurt her messy and viscous relatives. For them, it will be just another shattered statue that might not have reached its end by accident. Nothing more. The girl saw it differently, she saw it as the manifestation of all the pain she felt in every inch of her tiny body. The rage that has been bottled up for years has now found its way to the surface.

Only action can cure her of this mystical illness. Offer clarity instead of headaches. But where can she begin? Not only didn’t she know where the finish line lays, she was barely aware of where the journey started. And even if the road cleared out in front of her, what’s to say that she had the correct shoes to step on it?

It’s been a while since small droplets of water started falling from the sky. The slightly acidic liquid mixed with her tears and landed on the floor, next to her shiny sandals. She wished this would cleanse her soul, purify her bothered mind, and give her peace.

Sadly, she felt nothing. Nothing other than her wet clothes and hair cooling down the beautiful shell that housed her soul. Her eyes focused on one odd droplet, which at first ran down her cheek and then aggressively splashed onto the floor near her foot. It was an odd experience, something she wouldn’t share even with the people closest to her; but she could see herself in this tiny raindrop. It seemed to be battling something, just like the curly-haired girl. Its movement seemed enraged, and its surface was bothered. It didn’t take long for it to slip from the floor and onto the ground. It was fearlessly drifting through the air, as if it understood that there would only be peace after that.

Then the special moment occurred. It splashed on the cold, hard ground. The last struggle, though it appeared painful. Three even tinier parts joined, and the droplet was all together again! And the miraculous thing? It was calm, nothing affected it. Did all of its worries and fears just splash away?

At this point in time, when bad ideas and terrible solutions stormed her judgment, she wanted to feel like this inanimate object—calm.

She put away the gorilla statue; that was the first thing she did. But then her feet quickly stepped over the edge. The height will have permanent consequences, there was no doubt about that. Her heart skipped a beat every time she closed her eyes and imagined nothingness, and she took one more step. One more step than it would have been safe. Her frame is surrounded by whooshing air, and her frightened skin is expecting to be pierced by the harsh stones and sticks forever resting on the ground surface.

Her eyes opened, wishing to observe this place one more time before she moved on to another. The small hairs on her skin stood up like soldiers preparing for a battle. The breath her mouth was sucking in escaped from tightly clenched lungs, and her chin was wide open.

There was a living monkey in her arms, which sensed the worry through her heightened pulse; therefore, it leaned in more, and now its head was pressed precisely on her chest. She looked around, everything stayed the same. Everything except the old relative, who has given her this statue—although now it’s breathing in her arms. She wore a white gown, and her face seemed at least a decade younger, but what just didn’t fit the vibe her whole presence was giving was the crooked smile with angry eyes and scrunched nostrils.

“Welcome to heaven!” she said calmly, but there was still a furious undertone of disappointment in her voice. It wasn’t easy to take it in. She wasn’t aware that there is a heaven, but what is more puzzling is: how the heck did SHE, the curly-haired devil with an unpleasant attitude, get here?!