Two sides

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“You’re so stupid.”

“Shut up. I’m not stupid.”

“Yeah, how do you explain what just happened?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, shut up.”

“You’re not explaining yourself because you know you screwed up. Stupid.

“Shut up! Shut up!”

“Admit it, you screwed up. Again. You always screw up.”

“I do not! Seriously, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to…, I’m going to….”

“What? What? You’re weak, a coward, you say all these things but you don’t do anything. Stupid and weak.


“Or what? You’re going to hit me? Scratch my eyes out? Punch me in the face?”

“If you don’t shut it, I will. Swear to God…”

“Don’t talk about God. You don’t have a God.”

“Don’t go there. Don’t you dare go there.”

“La dee dah. I go where I please. I’m not weak like you.”

“Weak like me? Without me, there’s no you! You don’t exist without me!”

“Hah! That’s what you think. That’s what I let you think. You are the one who will cease to exist without me. You need me.”

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you. If you hate me so much, why don’t you just leave? Go away.”

“And give you the satisfaction of thinking you can get rid of me? No way.”

“I’m tired now. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Weak. Stupid. As usual. That’s how you deal with things. Just shut it out. Right. Stupid.


The doctor watched as Stacy shook her fists at her reflection in the mirror. Trying to punch the unbreakable mirror in her tiny room. Watched as she pulled her hair, shouting at the mirror to “SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”. Watched as she fought her demons who tried to steal her mind, her heart, her soul. He shook his head, and made a note in her chart to ensure her medication was increased. Again.
“Shut up, please, shut up. Go away. Go away……”
This is a fiction piece, the prompt: fight, for: 



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