Blood Will Out

chapter two

My shoes are too big.

I swing my feet slowly back and forth off the side of the hard bench.

My mother is dead and my shoes are too big.

The ugly thought keeps hopping up inside my six-year-old brain like a leapfrog. The clock is ticking. It's Wednesday. My mother is dead. Hop, hop, hop.

The woman on the bench next to me smells like baby powder, she says her name is Miss Stein. She mumbles to the officers that I'm in shock.

I'm in shock because my mother is dead.

I keep telling myself that so I'll remember.

Because one minute passes, or ten and I wonder where she is and when she'll come and get me. And then I see it all again.

A loud rumble; like books falling off a shelf.

I'm scared.

The hallway is too quiet and she doesn't answer when I knock on the door.

The blood.

I didn't even know we had that much blood inside us.

I rub my eyes with my hand trying to erase the picture of her on the floor.

The clock is ticking, and the tick becomes louder.

I wake up disoriented and gasping for breath. Walter is licking my face and whining. He hates my nightmares almost as much as I do.

"I'm OK buddy." I take a deep breath. "It was just a dream."

                                                     ____________________________________

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice."

Walter keeps right on with his silent protest, though his pace doesn't adjust at all.

"You know running helps me manage it and since I had a full-blown, nuclear-level panic attack in the middle of Heritage Square it must mean I'm not managing it enough." 

It's a little tough to breathe since we're halfway through mile ten, but I keep on lecturing him and myself. "It's been seventy-three days since the last one. That's not OK Walt. You know that's too soon." 

The knowledge that they're coming on so regularly now is something I can't begin to dwell on so we're doing another long run today. Walt and I stayed in our pajamas all day yesterday. I'd only left my bed long enough to use the restroom or eat peanut butter directly from the jar. Today I need to get back to regularly scheduled programming; I need to be doing whatever I can to manage this. Because the thing is, there isn't a lot I can do that doesn't involve medications I don't want to take and doctors I don't trust.

So I run, and do yoga I learned off YouTube. I gave up caffeine and I'm strict about my sugar intake. I take calcium, and magnesium and vitamin B because they're supposed to promote the health of your nervous system. I buy organic supplements the way my neighbors buy opiates only I'm way more obsessive about getting my fix. I study calming breathing techniques like it's a part-time job and my best and only friend happens to be an animal trained to help me stay level. I manage my health the same way a professional athlete does, except that they're asking their body to perform in above average ways. I only want mine function normally. Also, they've got the funds for optimum health, the scratch I can cobble together through various side hustles is barely enough to keep us in this one-room palace. In short, I've done everything I know how to do to manage this in 14 months since I became a legal adult and aged out of the system.