Is She There Yet?

She ran to the nearest Loo. On her way out, she saw two beautiful girls standing by the desk. 

She hurriedly shut the door closed, locked it, and stood by the door frame. All her force, on the door, already shut behind her. She pushes it with all her might, arms stretched, head down, one leg in front of the other, and her eyes closed. And then it started to well - oh, the tears. Tears that were no longer a stranger to her.

She locked out everything. 

She locked out those two beautiful girls, the one she will never become. She locked out voices, faces of people she saw on a daily basis. She locked out her family, her friends, the love of her life, and possibly the love of his. 

She locked out her pain, her fears, her frustrations. She locked out her thoughts, or so she thought.

But they came banging on the door. She freed herself, leaning on the wall to her right. Closed her eyes. Continued crying. But it did not go away.

It pained her knowing there wasn't really anything she could do. It pained her that all her witnesses were her beloved departed, or the confines of the room, and the mirror - with her distressed reflection staring right back at her.

She locked them out, or so she thought. But locked herself in.

Maybe there is no way out.
Maybe she should eat the cake on the floor which says "Eat Me"
Or is there a vile that says "Drink Me" instead?
Should she shrink, or grow?
Either way she must get out.

Wait. This is oddly familiar.