She stared in shock...........it really shouldn't be doing that.......it really shouldn't she thought and fiddled with her hair.
Time had expanded
She felt quite sure of it. It wasn't that she had suddenly gained extra days to live, more a feeling of it had got bigger, much bigger, almost infinite, she had become acutely aware of every minute detail around her. It felt like in this expanded second of time she could see the tiny dust motes floating in the air, she felt like she could reach out and touch each tiny. golden, sparkling form.
It happened again, and this time her eyes were wide with fright, it really should not do that she thought, again, it was hard for her to leave this one track that her mind had focused on, because she was right, it really shouldnt do that.
It had sat upon her bedside dresser, which was only a 'bedside' dresser because her room was so small everything became a 'bedside' something, but there it had sat. For over a year, doing absolutely nothing, at all, just sat there, but then it wasn't expected to do anything. Nothing of much interest in it really, could be said it was unremarkable in every way, it was merely a small cardboard cutout of two mice, cartoon mice, they were meant to be cute, cheery? perfect? for a little girls bedroom.
She didnt really like it , what was too like? Yes she was 9, yes she was a girl, but it was a cardboard cutout, not much one can do with that, except sit it on a bedside dresser She knew deep down that the only reason she kept it was because she had so few possessions, at least this way she had something to place upon the dresser, now though, she was regretting it.
She kept staring at it, her eyes wildly seeking any sign of movement, it wasn't moving. That was good, was it? Oh no she thought, was it good? or bad? The sounds were still there though, tiny? sounds she couldn't think of the best way to describe what was happening, it felt like the sounds should be bigger, and whatever they were a cardboard cutout really shouldn't be making a noise at all.
I know you can see me! I know you can! the woman cried as she thought to herself furiously I know you can see me, you're looking right at me! and she banged her fists against the wall again, the tears rolled down her face. It was so dark, she hated the dark, she turned and placing her back against the black wall she slid slowly down to the black floor. The black ceiling really added to the general darkness of the scene, and the sobs of the woman slumped on the floor really added to the atmosphere.
Fuck she thought, fuck, fuck, fuck and she banged a fist aganst the floor and then she sobbed some more. Her mind kept up with the running inner commentary of well you fucked it now haven't yer? and you got no one no one to say 'help' to, have yer? The cruel inner monolgue would sneer and then laugh at her and she sobbed harder, not as if you got kids who will wonder where mum is, is it? or family to ask where you are? it kept up the flow of vitriol no one is going to miss you, no husband trying to find where his wife has gone, no friends to ask after you She gripped the hair to the sides of her head and pulled hard, the pain took away the nasty inner voice reading to her the script her ex-husband had fed so often to her through the years that it was on an eternal loop in her mind. Day after day that's all she heard whether from him or from her own mind that he had bullied into submission, she was worthless the blackness remained solid, and now she was stuck in this fucking black hell hole she thought angrily and she thrashed out again at the wall. Her anger now replacing the self pity with thoughts of self preservation, and she tried to think more postively. There must be a way out, I know she can see me She looked around again, it was futile, everywhere, every direction, every inch of space held only a solid ominous looking blackness. Her hand felt the floor beneath her fingers, black floor she thought, no reflection, no nothing, feels soft, maybe plastic? Certainly not carpet, and she became aware of the wall behind her back. She sighed and carried on trying to be rational, logical, he always said she had no common sense, she was stupid, well she would find a way out of this and prove she wasn't stupid she thought and tried to feel some of that power everyone says that women should have, you are a powerful woman she said to herself and felt the familiar lack of belief in that statement. She returned to collecting facts, four black walls, she thought and then craning her neck, solid black ceiling, I wonder how high it is? She stood up, a little shaky and very cautiously, and was surprised to learn that the room was taller than her. She sat back down again, the only thing this hell hole had going for it was a tiny circle of light about two feet from the floor, it was on the wall she was sat against and and when she held her eye to the circle to see through, she could see a room. It was like a bedroom? she thought, perhaps, a small girls bedroom? it was quite sparse though She could only see the end of the bed a bit of a window, and walls that were painted some awful colours. If she looked stright ahead through the circle she could see a young girl of maybe 9? or 10? and she was looking right at me! she thought, and it renewed her energy.
She kneeled before the tiny circle and banged again, all round the wall, it didn't seem to ellicit any response. She tried to shout, but her voice, her throat, something was wrong, it was not working properly. She half choked, gasped and tried again, another half strangled gurgle emitted from her throat. No she thought angrily no, no, no and she tried to shout with all her might, this was a primal scream from the depths of her being, a scream of deeply felt sickening fear of being trapped in hell, to die in the dark, alone, and it came out like a mere gasp, a tiny whispering, a mere movement of air, there was nothing that could be heard. The darkness surrounded her, enveloping her, making her part of it, she felt like she was dissappearing, fading into the blackness, she could not make her voice heard and she was trapped in the unending, silent, darkness.
Lucy was starting to feel panic, still staring at the cardboard cutout she was now also gripping the flimsy bedcover in her whitened knuckles, twisting it round in knots in her fear. This time she could have sworn she heard a scream, it was wrong though, it sounded small? tiny? far off? She shook her head she tried but it was too difficult to describe it. Her face frowned as she thought harder,it felt like it was here, but not meant to be here, like it was here but from somewhere else? and somehow it had leaked through? Like it was the audible equivalent of those subliminal messages the tv is so fond of using, she may be only 9 but her mum was an...interesting is the best word, or the most polite word, that can be used here, person.
She could think of other words to describe her mum but it was always distressing to think of her so she chose not to and stuck with the word 'interesting'. Lucy sighed the heavy sigh of a child with the worries of the world on her shoulders; her mum was a constant embarassment and she hated her, she thought and not for the first time tried to understand what on earth she had done to deserve such awful parents. Her mum had embraced the sixties, and then with much fervour she had embraced and proceeded to adore the life of the seventies, and all the delights on offer. Her mum was described by others as a 'colourful character' and Lucy knew her mum had partaken in the drugs and the partying and the rest of the adventure, her mum would fondly relate to her of the psychedelic times and Lucy would glaze over, zoning out until she could escape her mothers ramblings.
Lucy had grown up with bedtime stories, or at least they would have been if her mother was ever there, of how bad the government was, or how bad the males of the human species were, or how Germain Greer was an icon, and how the CIA or was it the FBI or the NWO were. Ahh the new world order! Mum was fond of that one and would spend many hours telling anyone who would listen how we were all programmed through the tv and hollywood. This, though, was the eighties, and the world had become obsessed with money, and computers were the way forward, big hair and loud clothes were in and weird left over hippies were out Lucy was left with a deep fear of all things nuclear and anything political, and mothers who still wore seventies flares and platforms, telling everyone that the world will be run by robots, and made her 9 yr old daughter watch 'a clockwork orange'. Yes Lucy had enough to be afraid of she did not need a cardboard cutout making impossible noises at her.
She heard another scream, that had made three in all now, she kept her eyes fixed on the cutout and it still wasn't moving. It was still looking for all the world like just another cartoon cardboard cutout, yet it was screaming. Lucy didn't know what to do, she couldn't call for help, she had no idea where her mother was and doubt she would do anything anyway, maybe if she left the room it would stop. Lucy went to sit in the bathroom.
No, no! Don't go! Oh god please come back she wasn't sure if she was crying this out loud or in her mind, she only knew a blind panic as she saw the girl leave. She felt desolate as she sagged to the floor again, sobbing at her predicment. At least if she had children then someone right now would be calling the police saying 'mum is missing' she sobbed harder and that's his fault, all his fault, she thought bitterly, though she knew she blamed herself too, if only I hadn't loved him so much her thoughts continued, eating away at her and she sobbed with abandon. She knew she was spiralling down into another flashback but that was the thing with PTSD, it was hard enough identifying all the triggers without then having to control a spiral down into the quagmire of depression. The worst thoughts of how bad she was, how everything was her fault really, how the world would be a better place if she wasn't in it plagued her constantly. The flashback took hold and the young version of her was skipping joyfully and running home to tell the love of her life she was pegnant, she was over the moon and was so happy. It had happened a little quicker than she imagined it would, but she felt good all the same, they had only been together six weeks but in those six weeks he had been amazing, the most wonderful man she had ever met, she was married at the time but very unhappy, when he had swept into her life being the perfect man, well almost perfect but that first time was her fault he wouldnt have kicked off if she hadnt been late, it was her fault, no matter though, she thought, everything will be perfect now, a little baby to love and cherish how perfect how wonderful and she smiled a huge happy smile and had skipped in to their home told him the wonderful news. Then the flashback darkens and she is crying; he is clearly giving her a choice, either the baby goes or he does and if she loves him.
She never forgave herself, she sat in the complete blackness and cried her torn and pained soul to the universe, begging forgiveness. If only she hadnt loved him so much she thought and continued to blame herself. She had never felt such desperation of the soul. She had reached zero point there was no more she could do, no more she wanted to do. She just wanted to lay down in the blackness and die. The depression had taken a hungry hold over her thoughts and it fed to its delight, she could never have children after that, left scarred and barren and that had ruined her life, this life has been crap she thought death has to be a liberation, maybe she had died? she wondered. maybe this was hell? surrounded by blackness, watching desperately through a tiny hole, seeing life happening around her, outside of her, but never including her. She could see nothing, she could say nothing, she was alive yet not part of life. She cried tears that she knew no one would ever see, and this time the scream came from a melancholy depth felt by the voiceless in every part of the universe throughout time, it was long, it was low and it ripped apart the air apart with its misery.
I heard that! I definitely heard that! thought Lucy and she gasped. A panic had raised it's head in the pit of her stomach and she felt the rush of adrenaline through her system, it made her feel sick. She had returned to her bedroom only minutes ago and this time she had to work out how to either stop the screaming or move home. She couldn't live with this and she didn't want to run away from home, again. It never did any good, the police would just bring her back again, she thought and she got her coat and went outside. She wasn't sure where she was going, she just knew the answer lay out here somewhere.
And the night welcomed the small girl with open arms and a promise of protection, sometimes just sometimes in this multilayered universe the frequencies resonate in unison and recognise when a situation needs to happen.
to be continued
images and writing by Velveteen 2018