Well it has been a very long time since I have had anything to say. It is obviously going to be a long long time before I am back to my old self but I am trying really hard to pull myself out of my slump and get motivated. Everything has been so hard, I have hardly done any writing at all. My "Being Nobody" script has been pushed to the side for a few months while I draft out another project, and this hasn't got very far before I hit a bit of a brick wall. Even my reading challenge has slowed to a stop. I have even toyed with the idea of abandoning it altogether. In the meantime, I have been filling my head with fluff (Teen fiction mostly) as this seems to be my level of intellect these days. I am sure things will get back on track soon but meanwhile I jotted down a little short story today that I decided to post here as I have nothing else going on at the moment worth sharing.
Enjoy!
THE ROOM.
Time has no meaning here. I have no watch. There are no windows to see the sun rise and set. I sleep and I wake but I have no way of knowing how much time has passed. Sometimes I think I must have been here for weeks but I know that’s probably just my imagination.
I panicked at first, of course. Who wouldn’t? You wake up in a strange room with no way out; obviously you panic. I screamed, I hammered on walls, I begged and pleaded to be set free but no-one came. Maybe they are listening somewhere, amused by my futile efforts. Maybe they are watching me pace up and down as I search for some weakness in these walls which will give me my escape. I don’t see any cameras but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. Technology has come a long way. Cameras as small as a pin-head exist, don’t they? Or is that just science-fiction? No – I’m sure I saw a movie once where the camera was small enough to – but wait – that was a movie not real life.
I pounded on the walls with my bare fists until they started to bleed. I cried until my eyes were dry and sore but no-one came. I’m alone. I started to laugh then, almost hysterical. All the times in my life I’ve wanted to be on my own. All the times I’ve wanted to just run away some place quiet where I could just sit and think. Somewhere I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else. Somewhere I could figure out who I am and what I want to do. Now, here I am and all I can think about is getting home. “Be careful what you wish for,” my Mum used to tell me. How wise she was and I never realised. The sound of my laughter echoes off the walls. The reverberation seems to make the room tremble but then I realise that it is not the room but me trembling; shaking in fear. The shock and the terror smothers me, as I curl up on the bed, hugging my knees to my chest, to cry my heart out once more.
I wake from a bad dream only to realise it isn’t a dream at all. This nightmare is real. How did I get here? I can’t remember. My memories are a crazy blur. Was I drugged? I search for answers in the murky haze of my mind. Why can’t I remember? Had I been drinking? Maybe I had or maybe it was so traumatic my mind chose to shut it out to protect itself. I check my arms – apart from the bloody mess that used to be my hands, there isn’t a mark on me. So I hadn’t struggled. I hadn’t fought back. There is no way I would have just submitted. I know I would never have let anyone make me go somewhere I didn’t want to. I am not a weakling. I know how to handle myself and I have had to use those skills on quite a few occasions.
There is nothing to do but wait. I am not a patient person at the best of times. I can’t stand waiting in line for anything. I actually avoid situations where I might have to queue, preferring to do most of my shopping on-line. Of course, this means that I actually end up waiting longer for the things I want but it’s not the same as standing, tapping my toes, waiting for a cashier to call, “Next!”
Sitting here in this room not even knowing what I am waiting for, is the worst kind of hell for me. All kinds of sick scenarios flash through my mind causing my heart to pound in dread. What is going to happen to me? Are my family looking for me? Do they even know I am missing? It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re happy I’ve gone. They probably think all their Christmases have come at once. Maybe they’re throwing a party – raising their glasses in toast, “Good Riddance!” After all I’ve been nothing but trouble for them all, such a burden and embarrassment. My sister still thinks I’m responsible for my Mum getting sick. It’s not my fault the old girl worries so much. I’m a grown woman, after all.
Alone in this cold dank room, I can see clearly now all the things I did wrong over the years - the things that set me on my path to self-destruction. Maybe if I’d paid more attention in school and hadn’t got in with the wrong crowd and starting bunking off... Perhaps I could have got myself some qualifications and a good job. I could have travelled or even worked abroad. Maybe I wouldn’t be locked in this room now.
I can’t think straight. How long has it been? When did I last eat or drink anything? Is that their plan, to starve me to death? Have I been grabbed off the street by some psycho who is sitting in front of a monitor watching me slowly waste away? Or maybe he’s waiting for me to become weak with hunger before he comes and does unthinkable things to me.
I just want to go home. I’m sorry I let them all down. I promise I’ll change. No more drugs. No more stealing. I’ll get clean and get a job, I swear. No more stupid mistakes.
“Please just let me go home!” I scream at the tops of my lungs. I kick the door although I know it will do no good. I turn and throw myself on the hard bed once more.
“You need to calm yourself down.”
I look up and I am so relieved to see a face. It is a stern unforgiving face but I can’t help but smile at the short, tubby women who has entered the room. She stares at me and I begin to wonder if I have lost my mind already and imagined her into being.
“Are you going to take me home?” I ask, gingerly.
“You aren’t leaving here for a very long time,” she answers, simply as if this is the only explanation I need. My chest tightens as realisation sinks in. She’s not here to rescue me! My captor is a woman. In all my wild imaginings, I never thought it would be a woman.
“What do you want with me?” I sob, barely speaking above a whisper.
She seems confused. She leans her head to one side and takes a long appraising look at me.
“Your solicitor is here to see you!”
The memories come flooding back like a tsunami washing over me. Oh, now I remember.
I panicked at first, of course. Who wouldn’t? You wake up in a strange room with no way out; obviously you panic. I screamed, I hammered on walls, I begged and pleaded to be set free but no-one came. Maybe they are listening somewhere, amused by my futile efforts. Maybe they are watching me pace up and down as I search for some weakness in these walls which will give me my escape. I don’t see any cameras but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. Technology has come a long way. Cameras as small as a pin-head exist, don’t they? Or is that just science-fiction? No – I’m sure I saw a movie once where the camera was small enough to – but wait – that was a movie not real life.
I pounded on the walls with my bare fists until they started to bleed. I cried until my eyes were dry and sore but no-one came. I’m alone. I started to laugh then, almost hysterical. All the times in my life I’ve wanted to be on my own. All the times I’ve wanted to just run away some place quiet where I could just sit and think. Somewhere I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else. Somewhere I could figure out who I am and what I want to do. Now, here I am and all I can think about is getting home. “Be careful what you wish for,” my Mum used to tell me. How wise she was and I never realised. The sound of my laughter echoes off the walls. The reverberation seems to make the room tremble but then I realise that it is not the room but me trembling; shaking in fear. The shock and the terror smothers me, as I curl up on the bed, hugging my knees to my chest, to cry my heart out once more.
I wake from a bad dream only to realise it isn’t a dream at all. This nightmare is real. How did I get here? I can’t remember. My memories are a crazy blur. Was I drugged? I search for answers in the murky haze of my mind. Why can’t I remember? Had I been drinking? Maybe I had or maybe it was so traumatic my mind chose to shut it out to protect itself. I check my arms – apart from the bloody mess that used to be my hands, there isn’t a mark on me. So I hadn’t struggled. I hadn’t fought back. There is no way I would have just submitted. I know I would never have let anyone make me go somewhere I didn’t want to. I am not a weakling. I know how to handle myself and I have had to use those skills on quite a few occasions.
There is nothing to do but wait. I am not a patient person at the best of times. I can’t stand waiting in line for anything. I actually avoid situations where I might have to queue, preferring to do most of my shopping on-line. Of course, this means that I actually end up waiting longer for the things I want but it’s not the same as standing, tapping my toes, waiting for a cashier to call, “Next!”
Sitting here in this room not even knowing what I am waiting for, is the worst kind of hell for me. All kinds of sick scenarios flash through my mind causing my heart to pound in dread. What is going to happen to me? Are my family looking for me? Do they even know I am missing? It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re happy I’ve gone. They probably think all their Christmases have come at once. Maybe they’re throwing a party – raising their glasses in toast, “Good Riddance!” After all I’ve been nothing but trouble for them all, such a burden and embarrassment. My sister still thinks I’m responsible for my Mum getting sick. It’s not my fault the old girl worries so much. I’m a grown woman, after all.
Alone in this cold dank room, I can see clearly now all the things I did wrong over the years - the things that set me on my path to self-destruction. Maybe if I’d paid more attention in school and hadn’t got in with the wrong crowd and starting bunking off... Perhaps I could have got myself some qualifications and a good job. I could have travelled or even worked abroad. Maybe I wouldn’t be locked in this room now.
I can’t think straight. How long has it been? When did I last eat or drink anything? Is that their plan, to starve me to death? Have I been grabbed off the street by some psycho who is sitting in front of a monitor watching me slowly waste away? Or maybe he’s waiting for me to become weak with hunger before he comes and does unthinkable things to me.
I just want to go home. I’m sorry I let them all down. I promise I’ll change. No more drugs. No more stealing. I’ll get clean and get a job, I swear. No more stupid mistakes.
“Please just let me go home!” I scream at the tops of my lungs. I kick the door although I know it will do no good. I turn and throw myself on the hard bed once more.
“You need to calm yourself down.”
I look up and I am so relieved to see a face. It is a stern unforgiving face but I can’t help but smile at the short, tubby women who has entered the room. She stares at me and I begin to wonder if I have lost my mind already and imagined her into being.
“Are you going to take me home?” I ask, gingerly.
“You aren’t leaving here for a very long time,” she answers, simply as if this is the only explanation I need. My chest tightens as realisation sinks in. She’s not here to rescue me! My captor is a woman. In all my wild imaginings, I never thought it would be a woman.
“What do you want with me?” I sob, barely speaking above a whisper.
She seems confused. She leans her head to one side and takes a long appraising look at me.
“Your solicitor is here to see you!”
The memories come flooding back like a tsunami washing over me. Oh, now I remember.
THE END
No comments:
Post a Comment