wake up.

V

The world is light. I feel small again. But not in a bad way, in a way that makes me feel safe. I see her standing next to me, and her kind hands are linked with mine. Mum.
I remember this day. It was after my dad switched jobs to be closer to my mother's department. She's taking me to the park. I loved this park.
I never made friends,but at this stage I didn't need to. Mum worked from home and she was always by my side. I wonder if she still is now.
"Where do we go when we die?" I find myself asking. Her soft careful gaze fills my vision.
"Nobody knows, but I'm sure it's some incredible place." she replies, looking back up at the children running around the bark-covered ground. She never found me weird or troublesome. She only saw me as her little girl with all the right questions. At least, that's what dad says. He said I was a lot like my mother; always asking direct questions, and not afraid to speak up about them.
Where do we go when we die?
I hope she's doing well, wherever she is.
I hope she can help me, is what I'm really asking. I don't let that thought simmer.
Then I wake up.
My window is open. I sigh, looking around at my room. Everything seems the same. Why don't I keep track of everything the night before? How can I know if this is real or not if I don't pay attention to details?
My room is sparse; it's filled with only a bed, desk with one singular lamp on it and a bedside table, which has no draws and is only holding a glass of water. Which is currently empty. Did I fill it? Did I drink it all through the night? If only I could remember...
I realise that I am panting half a second later, and I look down at myself. I am drenched in sweat. That doesn't make sense. I had a nice dream. Wait... I had a nice dream?
I pinch myself and wince. Am I awake?
I quickly change. Where's my soiled uniform?
I ignore myself.
I rush out the door and run into my dad.
"Woah, hold your horses, Ananka!" he chuckles, setting his glasses straight. "I was just coming to see if you're alright. I heard a lot of screaming last night..." he trails off. I raise a brow. He clears his throat. "Are you alright?"
I shrug. "I guess so. Look, I'm going to be-"
"Late for school, yeah. You better hurry, kid." He smiles, smoothing my hair down and patting my shoulders. This is weird.
I give him a chaste kiss on the cheek and hurry down the stairs, shouldering my bag along with me. Is this the second school bag? I didn't check.
I grab my food out from the fridge.
Chocolate bar.
Packet of chips.
And a peanut butter sandwich.
I am awake.
I'm awake.
I'm awake.
I. Am. Awake.
I briskly stroll down the hallway and open the front door, careful to lock it behind me. I reach the school in a matter of minutes. Where is everyone? I sigh, rubbing my sweaty palms on my skirt. Not again.
No.
No.
No.
I'm sure I look mad when I'm swinging myself around, hurriedly looking in every small space and corner. Where is everybody? I walk up the stairs and pause at the front doors. Then I stupidly take a step. Like popping a bubble, everyone starts laughing and gawking and pointing and sneering at me. Putrid yellow paint has spilt all over me. And the king of my misfortune steps in front of me, laughing and pointing the hardest out of everybody.
"What is going on here?"
I freeze. That's Ms. Stockland. Why is this happening to me? Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
"Ms. Tuffin! How dare you-"
I sprint, bag on and all, through the conjoining hallways.
Please wake up.
Please.
Please.
Please.
And then I'm falling. I don't put out my hands and land head-first onto the landing beneath me.
And I wake up.
I'm panting and sweating and crying and am so sore. My dark strands are all in my face, sticking to the glistening skin underneath. Breathe.
One. Two. Three.
Again.
One. Two. Three.
The door creaks open and my dad walks in. He sits at the end of my bed and begins to rub my leg. He is already dressed. My window is open. Again?
"Ananka." He breathes, now patting my leg. "Are you alright?"
This cannot be happening. Not again.
"Get out."
"Ananka-"
"GET OUT!" I scream, pushing him out the door. With a muted I love you, his footsteps pad down the stairs and out the door. I'm going to be late for school. I get changed and run downstairs. I pack my bag with a chocolate bar, a packet of chips, and a peanut butter sandwich.
Wake up.
Wake up.
Wake up.
I speed out the door, not caring to lock it behind me. I'm at school again, and it is dead quiet. I think I'm crying. I walk up the stairs and sink to the floor just outside the front doors. I know what's coming. Why can't I stop it?
I stand up and walk around the side of the school, hopping the fence to see if I can get through the back door. I find myself at the front doors again. I cry out.
I throw my bag into the school. Nothing happens. So I walk around again, this time shimmering under the fence. I see the back doors. Nothing has changed yet. I walk. One foot after another.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...
I blink. I have my bag on my back and I'm standing at the front doors again. A small whine emits from my throat. I walk through the doors.
People are walking around me, some are heading back the way I came and others are walking behind me.
Pop!
My skin and uniform are now all yellow. I look up dejectedly into the careless eyes of Zachary Raminji. He's laughing. So are all of his friends. Everybody is laughing.
Please stop.
Please stop.
Please stop.
"What is going on here?"
I sprint, knocking into students and teachers alike, doing everything in my power to avoid the stairs. But after a few daunting seconds, I know I can't escape.
Wake up.
Wake up.
Wake up.
I'm crying when I see the top of the staircase. There isn't any other way to go except back. But I can't turn around. Why can't I turn around?
I'm falling again.
I put my arms out in front of me. Maybe, just maybe...
Snap!
I haul myself up and I am screaming. But I cannot hear it. My mouth is open and dry, but I am not making any sound. I stop. I am panting and sweating and crying. I wipe my eyes with the hem of my pyjama shirt and sweep the dark strands of hair from my eyes.
I am awake.
I am awake.
Am I awake?
Breathe. I need to breathe.
One. Two. Three.
I count again.
One. Two. Three.
And again.
One. Two. Three.
The door creaks open and my dad walks in. He is worried. His worry-line is creasing. I cry out.
He rushes over to me and gives me a short, sweet hug. I don't want to let go. But he does.
He sits at the end of my bed, gently placing a hand on my leg. He starts to pat. I don't even want to look anymore.
"Ananka." He starts, forcing me to keep eye-contact with him. "Are you alright?"
I shakily sigh. I do not want to do this again.
"No."
He smiles sadly, tilting his head to the side.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I shake my head. "No."
He pauses.
"Do you think you need to talk about it?"
Then I pause.
"Maybe."
He nods slowly, giving me a reassuring smile. He sighs, his hand falling limp on his lap.
"Well, when I get back home from work today, we can talk about it. No buts, no brush-offs. We will get to the bottom of this, alright?"
I nod slowly, the sinking feeling settling at the pit of my stomach. I gulp, but my throat is dry and sore.
I am awake.
I am awake.
I am awake.
"For now, get dressed and ready for school. Maybe it will help take your mind off of it. I love you." He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
Please be real.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Then he walks out of my room and shuts my door. I don't move until I can hear his car drive away. I sigh shakily.
I get up and get dressed. I take my school bag down the stairs. I open the fridge. I see a chocolate bar, a packet of chips and a peanut butter sandwich waiting for me. A lone tear escapes.
Please stop.
Please stop.
Please.
I instead do not take anything and shut the fridge. I almost want to see if I can jam my finger. Maybe if I hurt myself now I'll wake up. I open the fridge again. I leave my fingers on the side of the fridge. Breathe.
One.
Two.
Three.
I slam the fridge door as hard as I can, and I cry out in pain.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
Stop.
Stop.
STOP.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks and I open the fridge, clutching my fingers. It hurts so much. I don't think I'm breathing. Am I breathing? What's the time? Somebody help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
I open my eyes. I am standing at the front of the school. I cannot see anyone. My fingers do not hurt. I fall down, crying and crying and crying and crying.
I'm moving forward.
I didn't move. But I can still feel the heat of my tears roll down my cheeks. I am walking, walking, walking.
Pop!
The yellow paint comes down on me in an instant, and I give up. I do not move. I am on my knees, crying. People are laughing at me. They're gawking. They're taking photos. They do not care. Zachary stands out in my peripheral vision. He is a monster. I hate monsters.
"What is going on here?"
I let her come. I let her see me. I see Mariah. I see her standing in shock next to her mother. She is the only one who is shocked. She is the only one who's pitying me. She is the only one to notice how dead I feel.
Please...
Stop.
And I wake up. My window is closed and I am sweating and crying. My thin pyjama shirt is plastered to me like a second skin. It is almost normal at this point. I stare straight ahead of me at the wardrobe. I feel tired, dejected, dead. I don't want to be here anymore.
Please wake up.
I continue to stare ahead of me when my door creaks open. I don't notice that my dad is wearing casual home-wear. I pretend not to notice his heart cracking in two. I feel nothing.
"Ananka." he starts, placing a hand on my shoulder. I didn't realise I had moved to the foot of the bed. I do not care.
"I'm staying home with you today."
I blink. Turning around to face him, I let myself break. I fall onto his shoulder and I am crying again. Again. And again. And again.
"We're both staying home?" I whimper, my face muffled by his shirt. He nods, continuing to rub my back in a soothing motion.
"Yes. You aren't going to school today. I won't go to work."
I smile tiredly, squeezing him tighter. I do not want to let go. I never have.
This time he lets me.
He lets me.
He lets me.
He lets me.

***

He lied. My dad lied to me.
He lied.
He lied.
He lied.
He told me he wouldn't go to work today. He said he'd help me. And he lied.
Lied.
Lied.
Lied.
I'm sitting on the kitchen floor where he left me. I can't find the strength to stand. He's already been gone an hour. And still all I can think is that he lied to me.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
I want to cry, but my eyes are too dry. I think I've finally run out.
The air conditioner is always on. It's always making this empty home even colder than it should be. Mum never did that. She said that a home will always be warm. She also lied.
Lier.
Lier.
Lier.
I don't know when I stood up, but I am now in front of the fridge. It comes rushing back. I should hurt myself. No. But yes. I should. Maybe then all my brain can focus on is my pain. It would have no room to create something awful for me. Yes. I will hurt myself. But I don't want to. But I have to. I need to get better. This must be how. It must be. Somebody help me.
My hand is on the fridge's handle. This will hurt me. I think I'm reminding myself of the pain, because I don't want to do it. But since when does my mind care about that? I never want to do anything. But I must do something. Hurt yourself.
Hurt me.
Hurt me.
Hurt me.
I open the door. And I scream.