Blink

Then: The Moment Between Awake and Asleep

"Life is a game made for everyone, and love is the prize."

- Aviici, Wake Me Up

The wall was eyeing me. I could feel the weight of it's imaginary stare on my back, settling comfortably in the silence. It slowly compressed my lungs, until they were devoid of air, and all I could hear was nothing and the blood in my ears. This slapped me awake automatically, knowing all too well what would happen if I didn't do anything. Silence is too full, too full of opportunities to be left inside your own head. Too many chances of getting lost. I scrambled, falling over the side of the itchy hotel bed in my haste, and smacked a hand across the clock radio's buttons. Immediately, the melodic sounds of upbeat German rap assaulted my eardrums. Certainly not lovely, but far more satisfying than a panic attack.

While stumbling back to the bed, I managed to catch a glimpse of my reflection in the sink. I winced. My hair bore a striking resemblance to the smashed bird's nest I'd found in the rafters of our garage, and eyeliner was a messy smear across my left cheek. What looked like bruising circled my eyes, but is was only one of the drawbacks of trying to sleep every night with music blaring in your ears. I swore under my breath so quietly it barely feathered my own ears. It was entirely likely Doug had decided to turn off my noise again, despite his supernatural sleeping abilities. He didn't understand it, let lone tolerate it. It's not as if anyone did, but he was especially resistant to my… Eccentricities. 

My mom and Doug (excuse me, Daddy dear) were fast asleep in the room next door, but that didn't stop me from turning up the radio - albeit grudgingly, it truly was awful - and going about getting something to eat. Luckily for me, they both slept like the dead, and my shuffling wouldn't be even close to waking them. Neither, I supposed, would the entire police force showing up to bust a drug deal. I banged my way through several yellow wooden cupboards (they clashed horribly with the walls), attempting to find a bowl for my cereal, which wouldn't be the customary Cheerios. Apparently, Germany didn't do them. Which, in turn, meant I wasn't exactly appreciative of the country that disrupted my usual routine with such ease. 

Extracting a spoon from the utensils drawer on my left, I grabbed the cereal box and got back into bed. Closer to the radio, the noise, and the confines of a duvet cover and pillows. My borders are important. My borders help me keep control. I need them to focus on, and I need them to be happy. 

God damn it!  Dave's voice echoes in my ears, behind my skull. You are all you need to be happy. I focused on the Ed Sheeran song playing to shut him out and shut him up. I've been relatively content for years in my comfortable routine, changing now could only bring… Mishaps. And from my experience, mishaps sometimes relieved me of my security, and always of my anonymity. Those two were always my top priorities, always the things to keep me bordering on sane when things got painfully beyond my control.

I bounced lightly on the mattress to the beat of the song. Milk sloshed, escaping the confines of it's bowl, and leaked onto the sheets, and I didn't care. Mom called out to me, and I didn't care. She poked her head around my door, scolding me for bringing food into the bed. And I didn't care.

"That's what the maids are for, right?" I said, turning away from her, only to realize I was staring at the wall again. I flipped back reluctantly. "We might as well get out money's worth."

"Melle, get out of bed and clean the mess up yourself." It definitely was't a question, but a demand. She took the bowl from me, and began to wash it out, soap bubbles foaming around her wrists. "I see you ate? The alarm just went off, Doug's in the shower. Get dressed, okay? We're leaving in forty-five minutes." 

I moaned, making a point to show my displeasure. But behind the irritated facade, I was shaking, and cracks were appearing in the delicately crafted mask. "Mom, will there be people? I just need… I need somebody there with me. You know." 

She sighed at me, and ran a hand through her cropped hair. "Melle, I can try. But this is really a honeymoon for me. Haven't you been working on your little problem with Dave?"

I gawked at her. I couldn't believe she was trying to soften it, trying to make it less real by denying it  a name. My little problem, which was her top priority before Doug, caused me to miss three months of preschool, because I was pathologically opposed to nap-time. It made me a devoted insomniac. It forced me to be uncomfortable in the only place I should always feel safe: My mind. 

"Yes," I said, monotonously, even though my rage must have been visible. "But it's not exactly something I can erase." No matter how much you want me to, I added silently. 

"Of course not, honey," she said, and I flinched. The pet name was nowhere near as sweet as it sounded. "I just thought…"

"Of course you did," I spat savagely. "Thanks for your concern about something that's far beyond my control."

"But Melle! That's my point! I'm sure if you really tried, you could be normal!" She winced when she heard her own words out loud. I could see the apology written in thick strokes over her face, but before she could even open her mouth, I retaliated. 

"That's what you would think. That I'm not trying. That I'm not trying?" I laughed bitterly. "I try, I try every day, harder than you would ever bother to know. Now that you have Doug, I'm second on the priority list. Don't worry, I've come to understand that. Now excuse me, I have an excruciating day to prepare for."

I left Mom with her head in her hands, not even looking after me. Her lack of interest could still prick tears from my eyes, as it was doing now, but it no longer brought on full fits of depression. I couldn't handle being stared at, or left alone with silence, but I was capable of stomaching my mother's indifference to me, now that she had her shiny new husband? It was disturbing, in a lacklustre sort of way that ached dully in my stomach.

I randomly grabbed a jumble of clothes from my already overflowing suitcase, and retreated to the bathroom, thankfully no longer occupied by Doug. A tear detached from my eyelashes where it had clung, and dropped to my hand. I wiped it on my pyjama pants, and put my forehead in my hands. It was feverishly warm, and I was grateful for the little burn. The scorch lit up the chasm that was beginning to swallow my mind, and was extending it's vicious reach toward my panic centre. Diamonds sparkled on the tile floor, refracted by my watering eyes. White lights danced patterns across my vision, and I was focusing on them so hard, instead of the seemingly endless darkness.

I sang softly to myself, just to cut the quiet to pieces. 

A/N: Hi. If you're there. Mind leaving a comment telling me your opinion? I'm not entirely sure where this story is going (cue applause), so feedback would be much appreciated. Pretty please? With a sparkling butterfly on top?