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By Root 829 0

climbed on the bridge, traffic roaring past, her ears filled with sounds of the forest, the jungle, running water; she knew what to do, the postcards were leading her astray, they were bad clues leading her to destruction; now a thudding determination rose in Phoebe, 12, 13, 14, 15, I just hate those crazy, Faith’s cards in her hand, her sister’s photograph, too; Phoebe leaned over the railing, Dear Mom and Phoebe and light, lapiz, lamentation, lullaby, water swirling below, so many boats but the water wasn’t blue the corruption was everywhere, Faith’s cards in her hand—they’re killing me and I don’t want to die—the water sickly, sticky-looking like the swimming pool water she’d dreaded as a child, hairy chest, a gold whistle meant jump—Phoebe let the postcards go, they swirled, scattered, grew small so quickly like confetti, that day once a year when everyone throws white paper from the windows of downtown, she’d thrown the picture too, Faith whirling down to the water; I’ve done it again, Phoebe thought, sent her to the water a second time—God forgive me please it was her or me, one of us had to go, Forgive me, Father, nothing was ever how you thought, a life lesson ha ha, 19, 18, 17, postcards resting on the water, floating there, she was free of them now, Thank God, Phoebe thought, she knew where to walk, she was walking, pretending to walk; if she concentrated hard enough she could organize the world an instant at a time before it burst its seams yet again, forgive me, Father, there was her hotel, a miracle from heaven. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” she murmured aloud while ascending the endless flights of stairs to her room, her blue room, her own backpack crumpled on the floor. Forgive me, Father.

Collapsed on her sunken bed, eyes shut, Phoebe found no darkness or quiet; it was like being inside a radio where the station keeps switching, Dear Phoebe, You wouldn’t believe what … Strands of light, guitar music in bright, quivering strands, cars moving outside her window in yawns of blue, her hands on her breasts, their softness oddly comforting, 91, 92, 93, it would go on forever; summer camp, bottles of beer on the wall the rocking yellow bus, Faith in the front seat the driver’s pet, her long hair hot with sunlight, melted like oil, the children’s voices, Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, 102, 103, I love you, Phoebe thought, I love you, I’ll do anything for you but I don’t want to die, I’m sorry I threw them away, please God forgive me but it was all wrong, 29, 30, nothing was working. Phoebe stood, crossing the tiny room to the mirror above the sink. Her reflection a sea of shifting colors, purple, green, pink, eyes entirely black at the cores. A freakish face, a ritual mask carved in her image but her own face, not Faith’s, and Phoebe shook her head, closed her eyes and popped them wide again, then shook the mirror, turned away and looked back suddenly to catch the reflection by surprise … cloth, cath, mise, wise, 68, 67, 66, but there was her own obstinate face, her own no matter what she did, I’ve killed her, Phoebe thought, her own empty face, the pounding heart she could practically taste, goddamn this … Dear Mom and Phoebe and … Seized by a spasm of anger, Phoebe slammed her fist into the mirror, shattering her own startled look into several bright pieces that clattered into the sink.

There was pain in her hand. Holding it to her face, Phoebe spied a tiny sliver of mirror wedged in the soft place between her first and second fingers. Warm red blood flowed toward her elbow. Phoebe watched the blood, fascinated by its warm abundance, this wealth of extravagant color hidden away beneath her own plain flesh. Something calmed in her now, cool in her chest, her head, warm blood pushing away the fever, drawing it out of her. No, she thought, I will not die this time; bleeding, cutting the soles of the feet made you well in the old days, it will end like everything else, I believe it will end. Thank God, thank you dear God, Dear Phoebe … Hail Mary, three wishes, I wish for my life back again, please God the