Goldfish

FOUR

There was a time when I welcomed summer, the clear blue skies, the long hot days when even the breeze seemed to take a holiday. But those days felt like a distant memory. Now, the heat was a tormentor, punishing me for my gluttony. That week, a relentless heatwave settled over us, the air thick and stagnant, as if weighed down by the humidity. I found myself praying for the gloomy weather to return, wishing for a storm or an unseasonal blast of cold air from the Arctic, anything for relief.

Sweat poured down my bare skin, clinging to me in heavy beads. The fan in the corner whirred at its highest setting, but it barely made a difference. My eyes fell on the bottle of water on the bedside table, and a surge of desperation rose within me. The urge to pour it over myself was almost unbearable, I just wanted a moment's relief from the suffocating heat.

I stretched, reaching for the bottle, but it was just beyond my grasp. My muscles trembled from the effort, sapped of strength by the thick air, and I collapsed back onto the bed, defeated. The room seemed to mock me, holding relief just out of reach.

Then something caught my eye: a glint of light reflecting off the bedside table. It came from a necklace, a birthday gift from my mother. She had given it to me after my breakup with John, during those days when I still felt the ache of his absence. She'd meant it as a reminder that, no matter what, I wasn't alone.

It had been years since I'd worn it. The last time I tried, it no longer fit around my neck. Now, it lay there gathering dust, its once brilliant shine dulled, much like the parts of me that had faded with time. That necklace had once been a symbol of hope, but now it felt like a relic, a reminder of the life and the woman I used to be.

In that moment, it felt as though a veil had suddenly lifted from my mind, tearing away the comforting illusions I had wrapped myself in for so long. For the first time, I faced the starkness of my existence: the isolation, the dependence. Panic surged as I grasped the reality of my situation. I wasn't just confined to this room; I was trapped in a life no longer under my control, bound by choices I hadn't even realised I was making.

I hadn't left this room in over a year, and it had never bothered me before. But now, more than ever, I craved freedom. My head spun, and the walls seemed to close in. Unable to move, it felt as though I was being buried alive, trapped within my own body.

As my breathing grew shallow and frantic, a voice from somewhere deep within called out to me. It was my mother's voice. I didn't know why, but in the midst of my fear and confusion, something in me, a flicker of hope, urged me to reach out to her.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I couldn't fully explain why I sobbed. Emotions and thoughts collided within me, like atoms splitting in a chain reaction, culminating in a complete mental collapse. Doubts and concerns had been bubbling inside me for months, lurking just beneath the surface. Deep down, I knew this lifestyle couldn't last forever, but I had stubbornly refused to acknowledge it, clinging instead to the illusion of safety and comfort.

Reuben rushed in, finding me in a frantic state. His eyes were wide with uncertainty, as if he wasn't sure whether to approach or keep his distance. I was inconsolable, my tears disappearing into the trails of sweat pouring down my face. Reuben looked flustered, his confusion clear as he couldn't work out if I was having a breakdown or simply wilting under the oppressive heat.

I was desperate to call my mum, yearning to hear her voice. I didn't know why, but something deep within me, an unshakeable instinct, told me she could make everything better, just as she always had in the past.

"Reuben... my phone," I blurted through my sobs.

Reuben hesitated, his gaze flickering with hesitation. "Your phone? I still haven't—"