Thin lines

by Matilda Colarossi

She draws a thin line across her flesh, parallel to the others. The tingling burning sensation, the flow of blood, the pounding of the heart, dull the pain.

She moves the razor to her wrist.

“Beth… Beth open up! I have to pee.”

She raises her eyes to the mirror. Her reflection is blurred. Empty irises, blue sky around dilated pupils, stare back.

Beth places the razor in a tissue, tucks it into the empty waste basket.

She passes her arm under the running water. A sprinkle of pink dots fleck the sides of the sink. A swirling red vortex draws her blood away.

“Beth…Come out. I have to pee.”

She dabs her skin with some cotton batting, sticks a bandage over it and rolls down her sleeve.

When she pulls open the bathroom door her sister falls in.

“What the hell…”

“How was I supposed to know you were leaning on the door?”

“Jeeze, Beth. It took you long enough.”

Her sister pulls down her underwear and sits on the toilet.

Beth looks away.

“You could wait till I leave the bathroom.”

“Pooh, pooh. I’m just peeing. What were you doing in here anyways?”

Beth turns to leave but her sister stops her.

“Randy is coming later. I mean if you don’t mind.”

“No…It’s fine.”

Randy was her sister’s best friend, her ex’s sister. She hadn’t come to the house since her brother dumped Beth for “the slut”.

“The slut”was Kim, who wasn’t really a slut at all, just someone her ex had fallen in love with.

“‘Cause if it bothers you…”

“No problem, relax. It’s over.”

Her sister grabs a sheet of toilet paper.

“I’m so glad you’re normal again. You were acting kinda weird.”

Beth leaves before she can finish.

Righe sottili

by Matilda Colarossi

Si traccia una riga sottile sulla carne, parallela alle altre. Quel pizzicore, la sensazione di bruciore, il fluire del sangue, il battere del cuore, attutiscono il dolore.

Sposta il rasoio al polso.

“Beth…Beth, apri! devo far pipì”.

Alza gli occhi allo specchio. Il riflesso è sfocato. Iridi vuote, l’azzurro cielo delle pupille dilatato, fissano a loro volta.

Beth avvolge il rasoio in un fazzoletto, lo infila nel cestino vuoto.

Si passa il braccio sotto l’acqua corrente. Uno schizzare di goccioline rosa punteggia i lati del lavandino. Un rosso vortice ruota via il sangue.

“Beth…Esci. Devo far pipì”.

Si tampona la pelle con dell’ovatta, ci mette una benda e si tira giù la manica.

Quando apre la porta del bagno, sua sorella ci cade dentro.

“Ma che diavolo…”

“Come potevo sapere che eri attaccata alla porta?”

“Cristo, Beth. Ci hai messo una vita.”

Sua sorella si tira giù le mutandine e si siede sul water.

Beth guarda da un’altra parte.

“Potevi aspettare che me ne fossi andata.”

“Dai, dai. Sto solo pisciando. E tu che ci facevi qui?”

Beth si volta per andarsene ma la sorella la ferma.

“Più tardi arriva Randy. Voglio dire, se non ti secca.”

“No…va bene.”

Randy era la migliore amica di sua sorella. La sorella del suo ex. Non veniva da loro da quando suo fratello aveva mollato Beth per quella “zoccola”.

“La zoccola” si chiamava Kim, ma non era per niente zoccola, solo qualcuno di cui il suo ex si era innamorato.

“‘Ma se ti dà fastidio…”

“Nessun problema, rilassati. È finita.”

Sua sorella prende un foglietto di carta igienica.

“Sono contenta che tu sia tornata normale. Eri strana ultimamente “.

Beth se ne va prima che lei possa finire.

Translation by Sandro Pecchiari

MatiColarossi is a teacher, translator and writer. She has work in translation in Lunch Ticket http://lunchticket.org/six-minutes/ and short stories in http://www.stanza251.com

She lives in Florence.

Sandro Pecchiari is a poet and translator from Trieste. His attention is mainly focused on the origin of things and how these change in time, be it roots, places, languages, people or communication. His books of poems can be found at Samuele Editore – http://www.samueleeditore.it/

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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