Warning Labels

The assignment was to write about something using a worning label, and to only write what could be seen. I think this may actually be my darkest piece yet. Who knew?

My mother came in the room to see if I was awake and still alive. I could see her look of disappointment and pain that I always was. She bit her lip and said “‘Morning, Sunshine!” as she pulled me up by my waist, grabbed me as if I was a small child and placed me in the dreaded chair. I sat up awkwardly and smiled reassurance at her and nodded that she could leave. I rolled myself over to the mirror and the huge vanity that could fit a wheelchair underneath it. I could see a sliver of my mother through the door cooking breakfast for me in the other room. I smiled, then my smile failed and I dissolved into brokenhearted tears. My mother’s lips were moving to the upbeat, hopeful song she cooked to every morning. I wiped my tears away so that she wouldn’t see them, and started rummaging through the boxes and bags and cases that covered the surface of the vanity, looking for various articles of makeup. Ten minutes later, my face glowed with health and happiness, or a layer of bronzer and rosy blush. I picked up my hairbrush and started to untangle my hair. I picked up some hair ties and went to work on my hairstyle. With not a hair out of place, I grabbed the hairspray and began spraying. The warning on the back caught my eye, so I lowered the bottle to read it: contents flammable, do not use near flame, do not smoke until hair is fully dry, avoid spraying near eyes. I went back to spraying, but this time I sprayed my clothes, too. I sprayed a hazy mist which quickly surrounded me. I put my hand into my secret drawer and pulled out a half full pack of cigarettes and silver Zippo lighter. With the mist still surrounding me, I lit up.