There was a wildness in her that no one understood. The pressure would build up and she'd have to do something to release it; she couldn't explain it, wouldn't take the time to think about it, didn't dare try to stop it once it started. It was the only thing that had ever worked; it was the only way she knew to be herself.
She alternated between pacing wildly and staring at the wall. She was disappearing in here; soon there would be nothing left of her. She'd tried to comply, tried to wait them out, but they were not as trusting as they had been. They wanted change, and if she changed, she knew she was lost. Control was her only weapon.
"Believe," her mother whispered into her heart, "let go."
© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Sterling silver, lampwork by Donna Millard, tourmaline. Hand fabricated.