She laid down in one of cubbys that were meant for infants that had crib like bars that extended over the side to keep them from falling out. The little girl closed herself in and pretended that she had been jaield, a criminal in her still innocent state. Such an image that she sought for was absurd, she was but a child! And still she was led by it, willingly possessed and took that breath into her little body, her hair falling in tendrils around her face.
When no one came to be her jailer, she still sat there quietly waiting to be noticed. Finally, being of only three or four years, she grew impatient and opened the cage and fainted in the center of all the children. She was still, faking her own death and still grasping onto the doll. Soon, the other children began to build blocks around and over her, simulating a coffin. She smiled when they could no longer see her face and was quiet.
She stayed there until the nurse came and ordered for the blocks to be removed and for the little girl to stand up. She did so, and saying nothing, left the room.
The perversion stayed with her into adulthood. She would swoon in front of guests, would fall only for the sweet redemption of being caught. She would swallow alcohol until she passed out, because water never felt so clean as it did upon revival. She became prone to attempts at suicide- always meant to be carried out but always stopped by a hand not her own. She hated the people who took away her knives and drugs and made promises that she would return the items after she had consummated her dark pleasure.
She began to sleep long hours. The warmth of her blankets and the way she slept in fetal position might suggest that she wished only to exist as she was before birth. The fallacy in this reasoning, however, lay in that when dealing with polar opposites, each direction taken leads to the same ending point. Dead or pre-conception both imply non-existence.
She despised the manic who experienced his high first, only to sink into depression. What fools! she thought, the process is equally effective backwards.
She became restless with the failures of all her attempts to kill herself, like the virgin who writhes under the penis, begging to be impaled if only to make the burning stop.
One day, while her friends were distracted (is not life a series of distractions, layering upon each other ad infinitum? Truth withers under this principle, it cannot be found), she took off and chased death off the side of a cliff, her eyes wide open. It was no leap of faith nor a fall of grace, but an embrace of the earth that would carry her back to her mother's womb.