"The covers were calling out to my tired and neglected body. Warm and inviting, the safe haven of my bed was all i needed, along with the tranquil retreat of sleep.They never listen to what i have to say, i'm not depressed, just perhaps a little lost and misunderstood, but the stubborn prat of a doctor was adamant i'm depressed, so thats how I'm in this dark abyss. I pulled my long dark hair into a large twirl then let it drop onto the hot pink, hello kitty bedding beside me. Pulling the matching duvet up to my neck I began to doze, then suddenly to my dismay;
“Dakota! You idiot, go to sleep, you have school tomorrow.”
Does he think I’m stupid? Why is he telling me what to do anyway? He’s not even my real Dad. Hades his name is, with a bald head and a large nose, he is ugly on the outside and the inside. He is massively hypocritical as well, forever telling me not to do things only to then proceed and complete the actions himself. At times I despise him, I have no idea why my mum is with him anyways, however it’s not like I can say anything, no-one ever hears me. It is if I am under a bell jar, muffled, no-one can hear my little voice.
So pulling the covers up to my neck, I try and forget about him, the people who find enjoyment in taunting me, the ones who judge me, misread me, the ones who only hear and never listen. Sleep beckons me so I shut my eyes. Sleep is the only escape, one day, I shall sleep forever.
The next day, as I awake there are no cheerful birds chirping, only rain. The rain that seems to visit our town constantly, never letting off. It comes down in buckets and I can hear it continuously, the drops ricocheting of my windows. The weather is miserable, dull, and full of despair. I pace downstairs, the floorboards creak under my weight, reminding me that I still need to lose more weight. There is never a day where the depression lifts; every single moment awake is enveloped by emptiness, emptiness only I can describe an emptiness that you really have to have swallowed you whole to be able to empathise.
There is no-one downstairs, odd, there is usually mother and Demetrius eating breakfast, silently so not to wake me. I search for food in the cupboards, ravenous after fasting for nearly 12 hours, screw the diet... I’ll just purge. However, there is no food in the cupboards, they are all empty, and the house feels occupied but empty. They don’t care about me; I knew it... why am I surprised? Probably gone for a family outing, I’m not a part of it, always the outsider.
I swing the front door open and step outside into the rain, within 30 seconds I am almost saturated, resembling a wet dog that has just bathed. I look at the sky, if there was ever a sky to portray the lost dreams and hopes of mankind, this would be it.
The pavement is covered in a layer of mud and rainwater for obvious reasons; I can hear the soft squelching beneath my vans. I don’t know where I am going, or who to, I just like to walk. It soothes me. When I walk I can reflect on life, in pure solitude, just how I like it.
As I walk down the street I am overcome with a sense of paranoia, not the usual paranoia I experience in everyday life, this time it’s different. This time it has a sense of reality, and this leaves me petrified.
A rustling from a nearby storm drain draws my attention to it, and in there, to my surprise is a child; so naturally I help the young boy out.
“What’s your name?”
“Jumby”
I look at him... he has a pale, gaunt, ill face. His eyes are surrounded with dark maroon circles; he looks ill, even ominous maybe.
He takes my hand and I grasp back, together we walk, hand in hand down the street. It’s changing; the street is becoming unfamiliar, strange and frightening. My once animated street has become deserted, as if no-one has lived there for a thousand years. The house has shards of glass instead of windows, the doors have been boarded up on all houses, the brickwork is pale and there is no sign of life as far as the eye can see. It is as if the town is dead.
As the scenery changes I am more and more petrified; what is happening? Who is this strange, little boy? Have I finally come away from reality?
He abruptly stops walking and points to a storm drain on the side of the street. It is enormous in diameter, with moss on the outside and rusted iron bars deformed to allow a teenage girl through but no-one larger. The whole strangeness of today’s events causes me to loose all common sense.
“Do I need to go through?” I ask Jumby.
A slight nod from his direction ensures me I am travelling the right way.
So I crouch down in the pouring rain and enter the storm drain, I fall about 40 ft and land on... a cushion? The storm drain is exquisite with a sofa, four poster beds, a stereo and more. The room I’m in is huge and I can no longer see where I entered. Panic envelopes me and I start to scream.
Jumby is by one of the beds, facing away from me. I shake him from behind yet he is un responsive, and just remains in place looking into the darkness.
“Who are you?”
He turns to face me and gives me a smile from ear to ear, but Jumby is not who I thought he was. Jumby is something much darker than I could have ever imagined. He is something from a place far away from this world, the place where Freddy Krueger plans his next murder, the place where the monsters under the bed reign and the screams of petrified children echo is every crack of the walls; The place that monsters who eat children and teenagers escape from.
He wraps his hands around my neck with a strength that has to be fuelled by evil, I start to drift away, I am in the bell Jar again, and no-one can hear me try to scream.
“Dakota, WAKE UP!”
