𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

1°/ Paranoia

~DABI~

Can someone explain to me why it feels like I'm bullshitting myself?

I didn't know how, but I had already gotten used to this place.

I felt like I had already done this all before. Seen this all before. Heard this all before. Felt this all before.

The kitchen - the small spaced kitchen- was filled with over-active living bodies. Incessant high pitched laughter filled the air. Loud excited screaming, even louder voices, took all the peace of the place as literally all the ladies on red uniforms, who spread out in an efficient division of labor, talked at length about rich men and occasionally threw shade at some females whose names I had heard from them, but couldn't store up in my long term memory.

The aroma of cooked meat and well prepared rice found it's way to my nose, fueling my entire system with strong cravings and I found myself, moping at the fried rice, beautifully garnished with carrots, green peas, and freshly cooked vegetables, being scooped from a huge pot, into a blue and white cooler.

"Zeelah! Check the other rice pot oo, before it burns!" The lady who was busy frying some pieces of chicken, shouted.

My eyes moved to the pot of food on the gas cooker as another lady hurriedly rushed over to it. I watched the red and blue flames beneath it, intently, curiously studying it. Strangely getting interested in it - the fire that was aggressive on the burner.

I imagined this kitchen on fire.

The smell of ginger and garlic brought me back to earth after my short fantasy. I breathed in, smiled, liked it. Liked the burn, the sting in my eyes. Loved the aroma.

She didn't notice, but I had propped in a piece of ginger into my mouth, from her tray, when she got distracted by all the laughing and gisting around her, and I chewed hard on it. It tasted better than it smelt.

My hands traced the white counter top slowly as I moved round the place, observing the place closely, and feeling like I knew it all too well already - the white painting on the wall, the fancy white counters, the large fridge by the mettalic door, the food items... I was used to it all by now.

And then I saw her..

I froze. Eyes widened in horror. Dread filled me up, paralysed me, left me transfixed on my feet. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

Her work uniform was drenched in blood. From head to toe.. and it dripped, dripped, dripped down her dress, dripped down her legs, dripped down to the ground.

I opened my mouth to scream, but an airy croak left me. I choked. I choked on absolutely nothing. I just choked.

When I blinked, It was all gone. Everything. The blood on her uniform. Gone. There was no blood. Just a random lady in red uniform, doing her work.

It was never there..

Figures... That was why no one else in the kitchen, asides me, was horrified.

It was never there...

I realised I was holding a knife in my hand and I didn't understand how I ended up holding it. A faint memory of me, previously admiring how shiny the knife rack had looked once upon a time came to me. That didn't explain why I was holding one of the knives, but for some reason that wasn't quite clear to me, I didn't let go of the knife. I held it tight, tighter, tighter, suddenly feeling the urge to secure myself.