In Pieces

Lisa slammed the front door, making the whole house rattle, and burst into hot tears.  Tromping down to her room, she threw her book bag on the floor and paced back-and-forth.  Tears continued to stream down her face, obscuring her vision.  When she looked up at her mirror, she blurrily saw her face.  She barely recognized it.  Mascara was running down her face in streaks, and her eyes were wild with rage.  Just then, her cell phone rang.  Instinctively, she answered it, regretting it almost instantly when she realized who it was.

      “Lisa, I’m so sorry,” a boy’s voice said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I just…got carried away.  You know that I love you.”

      Lisa was so angry that she couldn’t even speak for a few moments, but when she did, her voice became cold and emotionless.  “No, Chris,” Lisa said, “I’m the one who’s sorry.  I’m sorry that I ever thought we would work.  I should have known….and I shouldn’t have let you even try to…to….do what you did to me.”  Lisa lost her composure then, and her voice cracked as she barely held back tears.

      “I-I’m sorry,” Chris said.  “I’m just so in love with you, and I just wanted to get to know you even more…every piece of you.”

      “Well, did you ever stop and think about the possibility that I wasn’t ready?” Lisa said, her voice cracking once again.

      “Oh, come on, Lisa!” Chris exclaimed, his patience suddenly snapping.  “We’ve been together over a year.  How much longer do I have to wait?”

      A wave of anger came over Lisa again, and all she could see was red.  “Why do we have to have sex in order to be closer to each other?  I mean, heaven forbid we would actually just sit and talk to each other instead, or just cuddle or something.  Anyways, if you really loved me, you’d be willing to wait as long as it takes for me to be ready.”  Lisa stifled a sob, and then shakily whispered, “Obviously, you don’t.”  She firmly pressed the “end” key and then threw the phone across the room.  It collided with the wall, and the battery flew out.  Her phone was in pieces, just like her.

(This little scene was an answer to a task on my Creative Writing final exam. I was to write a scene in which two people have a fight over something very specific. )