Wendy

Chapter 14: Rose meets Mum

Margret looked around her living area, for what? The tenth time? Everything seemed to be in place. The TV was off. Should she put it on? She picked the remote control and turned it on. After shuffling through the channels available, she changed her mind and turned the thing off. This was a support group meeting not a sleepover or something.

After going for counselling for the last three weeks, she finally agreed to join a support group. Each group had at least five members and according to Rose, it was a faster way of surviving through your grief.

Margret sighed as she thought about her choice. Had she really agreed to hold a meeting with strangers in her house? How exactly did Rose make her do this?

She had met Rose at the door of the grief centre where she had frozen like an ice statue. The woman open friendliness and warmth had strengthened her to take the bold step and finally get help.

Though Margret had been initially cold and unfriendly towards the woman, Rose seemed not to notice. She just kept saying 'hi', freely speaking to her and even offering to buy her launch. It hadn't taken Margret long to give up and just allow the woman be something close to a friend.

She fluffed the throw pillows on the couches one more time. 'Margret, if you fluff these pillows again, they would cry for mercy!'. She chuckled at her own thought.

Margret glanced at the miniature grandfather clock on her wall. Ten more minutes and they would start arriving. She let out a nervous breath and rushed to her bedroom. She already had on a pair of black jeans and navy blue t-shirt, her face was the only thing that needed a little reviving.

Unlike the living area, her room was a mess. Since Wendy's passing, she had lost the will to take proper care of her home. Her wardrobe hung open with clothes hanging about, some shoes lay discarded on the carpeted floor and her curtains were always drawn.

She ran a comb through her hair and fished for a hair band among the trinkets scattered on the dresser.

"Margret, you really need to put this place in order." She scolded herself under her breath.

Look at you, you're a mess! You think you're strong? You are pathetic!

Margret's hands stilled in her hair as she heard the voices leer at her. Since the last few weeks, strange unfamiliar voices seemed to have taken a platform in her head. At first, she assumed it was her subconscious but now she knew it was something else.

"I am not a mess. I am a strong woman," she whispered fiercely as she applied concealer underneath her eyes to hide the circles. She would rely on the power of positive thinking and confession. You attract what you fix your mind on. There was no way she would fix her mind on what the voices said.

You can keep saying that to yourself but you know you cannot hide from who you are. Your life is stretched before you and you know what it's full of? The voice questioned.

Margret disregarded the voice as she applied lip balm on her lips, giving herself a once over before smacking her lips loudly then marching out of the room.

"I don't care. Keep talking, I'm out," Margret muttered.

We are in your head, stupid! You can't run from who you are. You would end up a lonely old woman with no one to love or care of you!
Margret gritted her teeth at their words; they literally banged around her mind, making her want to scream sometimes. She noticed in dismay that the voices were slowly drowning the voice of her subconscious.

As Margret stepped into her kitchen, she heard the doorbell. Sighing in relief, she rushed to the door, glad for the distraction. But when she looked through her peephole, her relief evaporated.