Contingent

Chapter 1: Isabel Newton, 6.38 AM

While Isabel was in the bathroom, the broken cries of her Mother passed through the paint-peeled walls. And, if Isabel listened hard enough, she was able to hear the knife engrave cuts into her skin. The first time her Mother had done this, Isabel had screamed at her; trying desperately to pry the knife from her Mother’s shaky hold. But Isabel knew that even if she sobbed, begged or screamed; her Mother would do it again the day after.

There was nothing she could do.

Instead, Isabel huddled over the yellow-stained sink – reminded herself to add bleach to the never ending shopping list – and looked up at her reflection through the mirror attached to the cabinet. She looked even worse than she felt. Her brown, untamed hair hung limp below her bellybutton; the remains of yesterday’s make-up staining her pale skin. Eyes red rimmed with exhaustion, she swiped away a stray tear. She noticed that her fingers were unnaturally thin as she poked her sharp cheek bones. When she was younger, she had those cute chubby cheeks that all the Grandmas loved to pinch. But after the death of her Father (and her Mother’s deep depression) she had often forgotten to eat. The girl looking back at her was not the girl she wanted to be. It was like watching a ghost.

Another cry sliced through the sound of Isabel’s ragged breaths.

“Oh god,” Isabel whispered, her hands clenching tightly around the sink’s edge.

Then, she saw the scissors.

At first, she hesitated. But, as another sob travelled into the room, Isabel couldn't help herself. The metal was cold as she ran her fingers along the edge, checking how sharp it might be. And, without thinking, she yanked a large section of hair in her fist then snipped.