intimidating than the one before. The box fades and she looks to the other metal box, thinking of opening this one too but deciding against it in favor of exploring and finding a completely different box. She pushes herself forward on her hands and knees to crawl amongst the boxes to find the smaller ones, they seem safe. She finds one that interests her after a while of crawling. It’s the size of a votive candle and a milky white. She sits cross-legged on the floor and holds the box in both hands examining it a bit more before the inevitable unfastening. The box was smooth like wax but not malleable like wax, it had the definite shape of a box. She rolled it around in her hands, stalling a little, before giving a sigh. The preteen girl, the same She, is in the town library. The smell of old books and ink is familiar and comforting to her as she searches. She doesn’t know exactly what book she is there for but she is determined to find one. The preteen girl suddenly sees a green spine sticking out of the shelf, standing out like a neon sign. She grabs it with her small hand and brushes her dyed black hair out of the way to get a good look at the cover, it immediately sucks her in and she has to borrow it. She is fascinated at this moment. She leans her forehead against the small white box for a couple seconds before it fades into nothing. The box was a good one and it lead to a many things afterward that were very important to her. She stands up and looks around for an exit again, just in case one appeared, but no such luck. She walks against the walls of the room running her fingers against the smoothness until she slams into a box, this one at her navel. The box is heavy and a murky grey. It feels like stone and is rough at every edge, it’s intimidating and she wants to back away from it. Though she walked straight into it, as if she was meant to open it now, as if this was the right time. She bites her lip and crosses her 29
Temper Literary Review
Spring 2018
arms tight to her chest staring down the box, willing the damn thing to disappear so she didn’t have to open it but alas it went nowhere. She growled and stomped her foot against the floor glaring at the box as if this was all its fault and not her own for walking into it. She dropped her arms and pouted before putting her hands against the edge of the lid and pushing hard. The girl, our poor She, is sitting in the back of a car, her mother’s car. Her mother is the one driving but she is also screaming at the man in the passenger seat. They are arguing and the girl is scared. The car stinks of body odor and alcohol which is seeping from the man, he is supposed to be someone that the girl can trust but he looks, sounds, and smells more like a stranger to her. The girl pulls her knees up to her chest as the argument continues on. It is the middle of the night, she is supposed to be in bed for school the next day, but instead they are speeding down the highway. Then I’ll just get out now! The man shouts and suddenly pushes the passenger side door open. The girl screams and tears well up in her eyes, she doesn’t want him to jump out of the car she doesn’t want him to get hurt even if he is being scary. The mother screams as well and grabs the man pulling him back toward her so he closes the door. She is terrified at this moment. Hope jolts forward in her chair. That moment was too much for her. Her therapist holds his hand out as if to steady her but refuses to touch her. “Welcome back,” he says, “that must have been rough to share. Our session is now over. Is there anything you’d like to ask or close with?” Hope looks at him as if he doesn’t exist when she replies, “I’ll be back next week.”