Wish You Were Here - Three Instalments Finished

Breaking Down

"Come on Danni! What are you just standing there for?" Cassy cried over her shoulder. 

Dragging her eyes back into focus, Danni watched the other girl run off along the asphalt. Knowing that her continued silence would only attract more attention, more questions, she began to run too, laughing breathlessly as she went. Breathless laughing was easy, casual, something that didn't sound as false as her normal laughter.
The bright colours and noises of the school fate streamed around them, but Danni hardly noticed. Cassy was probably running towards some kind of attraction, but nothing really stood out to Danni. It all looked the same so she just followed blindly and prepared to act excited wherever they arrived next.

The two girls skidded around people and clowns and corners into the cool air of a deserted classroom. Cassy stopped and turned to face Danni. Her mouth pulled into a thin line. Danni recognised determination in the set of Cassy's mouth, but it didn't reach all the way to her eyes. Her eyes were soft. Danni thought that the softness might be worry, but emotions seemed harder to understand at the moment. It was like she had forgotten how to read them as well as how to feel them.
Putting it all together, the secluded spot, the hard mouth, the soft eyes, the hands held out the same way people do when approaching a frightened animal, Danni finally realised what was going on. She turned away quickly and began to feign interest in the room they had just entered. Paintings surrounded her. Brilliant, an art room, lots of easy conversation there. 

The shapes in the pictures meant nothing to her. They might have been happy people or dead puppies for all she knew. Normally she wouldn't have taken such a risk, but desperate as she was to avoid the approaching conversation, she randomly gestured to one and said, "Wow, isn't that pretty? God I'd love to be that talented. Wouldn't y-"

"Shut up Danni," Cassy snapped, "You can't keep running from this. You can't keep running from me. We have to talk about it, whatever it is, so stop trying to distract me because it isn't going to work. Not this time.  "

With a mental sigh Danni turned to face her former best friend.

"What do you want Cassy?"

"I want you to talk to me"

"That's what we are doing. That's what we always do. I'm pretty sure we have used up all the words in the English language at this point," Danni spat 

"You know that's not what I mean," Cassy coaxed, "we need to talk about what happened. I can see what it's been doing to you. Do you think you fooled me with those weird smiles. They are like someone put fish hooks through each corner of your mouth and they just  pull up when it seems like you should be smiling. It's creepy. It's been like talking to a robot that has been programmed to act like you. It's like you aren't really there any more. I know you are doing your best, but maybe the fake-it-till-you-make-it approach isn't working. Maybe you need to talk about it. Maybe you need to get it all out and cry, so that then you can start to feel better and get back to your self."

"Wow. What a great little speech. How long have you been rehearsing that one Cass?" Danni sneered back. 

Contempt was easy. Cassy had once been her best friend and Danni would never have spoken to her so harshly, but who knew what she was now. Danni had recently realised that she didn't really care about Cassy any more. However, she didn't really know what to make of that because she didn't care about anyone else either. She didn't really care about anything at all. 

"So what if I rehearsed it? I have been worried about you!" Cassy cried.

"Save it for someone who cares."

Cassy's eyes tightened slightly as the words sunk in, but she spoke like Danni hadn't said anything, "What happened at the party Danni?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Danni, you need to talk about it. I was reading about how letting it out can help. You know, like sharing the burden."
"Of course  you read up about it, you little nerd." Danni laughed, "Typical Cassy. You think you can solve everything for everyone with your precious books. I'm not some project for you to fix up and get a pat on the back from some teacher."
As tears welled in Cassy's eyes, Danni knew she had hit below the belt but she was way past caring.
In a tiny whisper Cassy replied, "It's not like that and you know it. I'm just trying to help you. Why wont you let me?"
"Because it's none of  your damn business you nosy little idiot. Now get out of my way. I'm leaving," Danni yelled.
As she stormed out of the room, Danni thought she saw the tears spill down Cassy's cheek as her final words hit home, but she didn't look back to find out.

Counting

Walking home in the afternoon heat, Danni knew she should be thinking about her fight with Cassy. She should probably even be upset about it and coming up with ways to make it better. Instead she was concentrating on putting one dusty shoe in the front of the other and counting each step.
Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight.
It had taken two thousand and five steps to get home from school on Friday.
One hundred and nine. One hundred and ten.
As part of some stupid personal mission,she was concentrating on lengthening each step by the slightest margin in an attempt to make the walk from the school gate to her front door in exactly two thousand steps.
One hundred and twenty-four.
Though she was determined to achieve her goal, Danni was actually kind of worried about what she would do if she ever achieved it. What would she concentrate on when waking home the next day?
One hundred and thirty-three. One hundred and thirty-four.
She shuddered at the thought of having nothing but her own inner monologue for company. Nothing would be worse.
One hundred and fifty. One hundred and fifty-one. One hundred and fifty-two.

One thousand nine hundred and eighty-six. One thousand nine hundred and eighty-seven.
Pausing for a moment on the footpath outsider her house, Danni could already tell that she had done it. After weeks of trying, she had gotten the steps exactly right. Just thirteen more steps and she would be nose to nose with her front door. Then what would she do?

One thousand nine hundred and eighty-eight.
Her concentration started to slip.

One thousand nine hundred and eighty-nine.
Her fingers began to tremble.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety.
Sweat started to bead on her upper lip.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-one.
Somehow the air got thinner. Lungs working in overtime, Danni struggled to draw enough air to keep breathing.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-two.
The pressure in her head started building, throbbing with each accelerated heart beat.
"No, no, NO! Get a grip Danni!" she encouraged herself, "Come on, pull yourself together!"

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-three.
Trying to stay calm she attempted to swallow down her fear. Her parched and swollen tongue
stuck to the roof of her mouth and threatened to choke her instead.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-four.
She found the bottle in her bag just in time to slosh some water into her mouth and unstick her tongue. The cool water felt nice to her overheated body so she took another swig.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-five.
The water in her stomach churned. Nausea rushed back at her and twisted her stomach in knots. Thinking of how some people describe butterflies in their stomach she laughed. This felt more like a python rolling and twisting and knotting painfully as it tried to find some way of escaping.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-six.
As the snake rolled in the pit of her stomach the chill set in. Sweat froze into goosebumps, teeth chattered, and she began to shiver.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-seven.
Her back started aching and she realised that she had been holding her body so tense that she was beginning to tremble as well as shiver. Her muscles and skin both twitching and shaking pulling away from each other. Tremors cracking her apart.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight.
Unable to hold the pieces of herself together she felt it creeping in.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine.
Quietly through the cracks in her mind, the broken record of her inner monologue began to play.

Two thousand....

Quiet Storm 

The rest of this story has been moved to Wattpad because this post was getting insanely long.
You can read it here


This post is getting too long and annoying so I am going to continue writing it on my Wattpad account where you can see it one chapter at a time, rather than just one long stretch. 
I don't know if you might have to be a member of Wattpad in order to read it...that would be sad. If that's the case and you don't want to sign up, then just let me know and I will email the chapters to you or something. 

I will continue to update the title of this post though so that if you are on G+ you can see at a glance if there is a new chapter for you to read. 

Tall Dark and Handsome

In life, the path we walk is dark and treacherous. We grope our way forward moment by moment, trying not to stumble. Trying not to fall off the edge of the path altogether.
Like veins and capillaries, the path branches off towards a million different lives we could lead. Twists and turns hide the road ahead but we are pushed forwards by our pumping hearts. We have split seconds to make decisions, right or left, straight or up or down, before it is lost and fading away into the blackness behind us. If we stop, we clot.
Jenny has stopped. She is standing at a fork in her path. One man stands to the right and another to the left. Both men tall, dark, and handsome. She knows these men, their paths have wound through hers for years, crossing, running together for a while, splitting apart once again. Weaving in and out, a tapestry of friendship.
Now they are here. Both at once, but pulling her life apart. She must chose. One or the other. Left or right. Up or down. No third option of coexistence. No choice but to choose.

To one side is a childhood friend. When he hugs her she only reaches his shoulder. He is tall, tall the way Jenny likes a man to be. Tall and broad and strong. Strong enough to hold her, to protect her, to restrain her. When he smiles, his dark eyes shine. His dark hair flies in the wind as he runs. When they kiss the dark stubble scratches her face. He is dark, but he is light. He is obviously beautiful, obviously joyful, obviously good. He makes her laugh and tried his best to please her. He is polite and makes her family happy. He is handsome.

To the other side is a strange man. Not a stranger but still strange. Though he isn't much taller than Jenny, he seems to take up far to much space in her mind. He is tall, tall from within. Jenny met him in darkness. Figurative and literal darkness. In the sorrow of her life he came like a shadow of a man. He is dark. He is weird. He makes her uncomfortable. He makes her laugh. And when she makes him smile he is beautiful. He tells her things she doesn't need to hear, calls her out when she is full of it. He doesn't try to heard to please her, and that pleases her. When they fuck he leaves bruises. He is not the kind of man Jenny would ever introduce to anyone. He is challenging and passionate and consuming, but not right for her on the surface. He is handsome.

Which one to chose? Which path to take? Which life to follow? Jenny looks from one to the other. She can see them, but she cant see past them to the life they will give her. Who to take a chance on? If she kissed them again would she know who it is that she needs in her life?
Taking a deep breath, Jenny decides. In her beating heart she knows who she needs.
Stepping forward and to the right, she takes a warm firm hand in her own and is swept once more down life's path, moving more surely now that she has someone to hold.

Wild One

Half hidden in the dark she is perfect. Silver moonlight reflecting off cream skin and midnight hair. She is tangled in the sheets, staring darkly into my eyes. Maybe she knows what I'm thinking. Maybe she knows I'm glad for the shadows. Glad I cant see the shiny scars that pattern her wrists and stomach and legs. Maybe not. Maybe she is just begging me to begin.

Finger tips on fire tracing cold liquid skin. A blazing trail of territory claimed, shapes memorised, and silent thoughts. In the dark I hear her breathing. Soft, shallow, steady breathing. I feel her trembling in anticipation, waiting for my next move, my next touch, my next unspoken word.
Without thought her body responds. There is power in my finger tips. With the smallest bit of skin I control her. With a millimetre of movement I captivate her. With the slightest pressure I enslave her.

I escape her eyes and kiss her. With a fistful of her hair I hold her down as I pull back. Her body arches up against me and I know she is truly mine. With lips and teeth and tongue I torture her. Tease her with touch but pull back before she has enough.

The tempo changes. Her need is savage. Her eyes are fire burning my name. I give in to that stare and make her glad she came. She wants me and needs me like never before. This time it's different. This time it's real.

She is all shallow breathing and tangled hair. All forgotten vows and broken promises. All mine.
I tie her up in ribbons and write my name across her skin. Smear the memory between our sweaty bodies. I hold her close and know she needs me closer. I pull her into myself so she forgets she even exists. With each moment I claim her and tame her. Break her open to keep her whole. Dissolver her into dust and release her to the air. I let her escape this heavy breathing and whisper her name so she keeps from screaming. I paint her skin with violent love to keep her heart from bleeding.

Hear the Children Crying

Laying in bed I hear it.
I hear the children cry.
Crying for a mother,
who never said good bye.

Voices in the darkness,
loud, and strong, and true.
Convinced that she will return
just like she used to do.

I hear the children crying,
for a mother far away.
perhaps if she could hear them,
she would try harder to stay.

I hear the children crying,
who want naught but to not be alone.
I hear them crying for a mother,
who is never coming home.

Screaming

I am sitting on the floor beside you. Your breathing is shallow, ragged. The air through the window is freezing. Too cold for spring. The glass is broken. I cannot close it. You are freezing.
Patting your hair I feel the short coarse bristles. They irritate my skin. But how can I stop? How can I stop when this might be making you feel just the smallest bit better?
I can't stop.

Your neck is twisted horribly. Not broken, just twisted. You hold it there for some reason. Does it make you feel better? Is the pain less when you hold your head like that? It looks so unnatural to me. But how should I know what is comfortable. I have never tried to be comfortable while waiting to die. I wish I could ask you these questions but you wouldn't answer me. I wish you could tell me what I can do to ease your pain. The only sound you make now is screaming. Screaming and that shallow, ragged breathing.

Do you want it to be over? Should I have let them kill you painlessly, or were they right, do you deserve the chance to try and fight through this? I have no idea what to do. No matter what I do it is the wrong thing. If I let you die I would always wonder if you might have pulled through. When you don'd pull through I will hate myself for every extra moment of suffering that my weakness caused you.

"I'm sorry" I whisper quietly. The only thing I have left to say. The thing I have said to so many before you. The thing I will some day say again. Those two words break me. They contain all the mistakes, all the sorrow, all the death that I have ever faced. I know this isn't my fault, but I'm still sorry.
So so sorry.

Looking Back

An empty road, a fallen tree, a twisted fence
crippled by the decay of time.
The rutted track calling out
for you to walk alone.
A broken chair. The paint is peeling slowly and the ornate steel is rusted
Its past was beautiful.
Tilting towards the track,
you can see the past but you cant go back

Monsters

Sunshine Girl

Sunshine Girl I see you,
with your hair of liquid gold.
Walking slowly by me,
such a beauty to behold.

Sunshine Girl your laughter,
it's ringing in my ear.
your summer morning melody,
such a joy to all who hear.

Sunshine Girl I'm smiling,
to be spending time with you.
Even just with being friends,
my dreams have now come true.

Sunshine Girl please share my life,
the good moments and the bad.
Let me love and support you,
and give you all you never had.

Sunshine Girl I love you,
I see the spark of light within,
I'm asking will you marry me?
Let our lives together begin.

Sunshine Girl I love you,
more with every passing day.
You smile and I smile,
together we will stay.

Sunshine Girl, a baby!
With golden hair like yours.
Our perfect gift from heaven,
a girl who everyone adores.

Sunshine Girl stop leaving,
stop pulling back away.
Please let your light keep shining,
by my side please stay.

Sunshine Girl where are are you?
The dark has covered up your light.
I swear to god I'll find you,
I will not give up this fight.

Sunshine Girl I need you
your daughter needs you too.
Please stay with us darling
from the clouds you must break through.

Moonlight Girl you took her,
blood from skin you tore.
Now laying in the darkness
my sun will sleep for ever more.

This Shadow Life - Crying and baths

People say that crying is a good thing. That it releases endorphins and relaxes you because you get all that emotion out of your system. Baths are supposed to be good too, but to be perfectly honest I find both things useless in my day to day life and dealing with depression.

As some of you might have guessed from my posts, I suffered a trauma and now I have trouble feeling emotion. 

People have suggested that I need to let it all out and have a good cry. That it will unstopper my emotions and I'll be able to feel again. People also suggest relaxing reflection in a bath. 

To my rational self these ideas make sense and in the abstract they seem like a great idea. But then it comes to actually doing it. 

Now, I have a lot of things I could cry about but I don't really cry about them normally. So, when I want to go on a crying jag, I have to really work up to it. It's like running the bath. 

Then I get into it. 

I sit and cry or sit in the bath and reflect but then I think "now what?"

I'm just going through the motions really. The physical act alone achieved nothing for me and it all just feels like such a waste of time. There are so many more productive things I could be doing. I don't get anything out of crying or baths. So what's the point? 

There is none. 

Crying and baths have no value for me. 

I'll have to try something else...,

Suggestions?