Screaming Thoughts

Allie Clickner
Jul 28, 2017 · 2 min read

The other day I decided to use the bath bomb I had purchased while on vacation. It was a deep pink color and smelled of floral vanilla. I ran the bath water and lit some candles to set around, creating the relaxing atmosphere I was in such desperate need of. I dropped the bomb into the water and as soon as it hit the liquid surface it exploded into a miraculous show of swirling color, slowly making it’s way to the edges of its container. I shut the light off, now depending on the candles to guide my way to the tub. The water was boiling hot, just how I liked it. One foot. Then the other. Pretty soon I was half submerged in the deep pink liquid. It slipped into every crevice of my body. I then leaned back to rest myself on the side of the tub, letting the water slip over my chest and stomach, like burning hands using my skin to climb. I didn’t mind the slight tinge of pain the water brought.

But then my mind started to take over.

As I was relaxing in the water, I noticed the color had changed since I flicked the light off. It no longer had the brilliant deep fuchsia look the bath bomb had originally given it. Now, with just candlelight helping me see, the water took to more of a red color. A deep red that should have made me uncomfortable and want to turn the lights back on. But I didn’t. I sat there, and involuntarily my mind took control.

The water looked like blood. The deepest parts were the deepest red and the more shallow parts were a distorted pink. Like the pink in 13 Reason’s Why when Hannah let the water overflow in her bath. “This is what it would look like” I thought to myself, “if I ever decided to take my life by letting something sharp dance a little too much, a little too far, a little too hard across the delicate skin on my wrists, this is what it would look like.” “This is the color the water would take to after I pass out from loss of blood, and eventually pass out of life. This is the color my mother would see when she opens the bathroom door, worried that the only thing she’s hearing after repeatedly calling her daughter’s name is silence.” These thoughts should’ve sent shivers down my spine and made me shift from my spot, but they didn’t. I continued with my bathing as usual and then let the “blood” water slip down the drain, leaving no evidence of ever being there. I dried myself and walked out of the bathroom. I was alive. It was just a bath bomb.

-Allie Clickner

Allie Clickner

I’m just a girl. I write what I feel. I love cats and would someday like to travel the world.

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