The Playlist

Rebellion

Odour of boy. Not so strong, faded. Heavy covers. Heavy eyelids.

The thoughts of yesterday crowded my mind as I lifted my head, slowly. I felt like there was a rope, tightening round my skull. Threatening to crush it into a million china pieces. I could see it. The little ceramic shards, penetrating my mind, flooding blood and water underneath my skin. It escaped into my lungs till they blew up, huge balloons of thoughts and regrets. I shaked away the image.

There was a little alarm clock, long and shiny black plastic with neon green numbers that radiated and stuck on my eyeballs. One Fifty Three PM. Where did the time go? I was wearing joggers and an old t-shirt, my throat was tight with anxiety and my eyes open with fear. The silence echoed round the house. Hollow. I stayed sitting in bed, hoping for something. The door slowly started opening and I kept my senses awake, it was only Miss Tufsy. She climbed onto my bed and curled up on my lap. I stroked her long main and twirled little tufts of hair so she had a mohican.

I picked her up gently and scooped an arm under her back as if I was cradling her like a baby. We trudged downstairs, slowly in the afternoon drizzle. 

I looked around, looking for signs of life. There were only the remains of a small crumpet and jam smeared across a broken plate.

There was a calendar, a cat one no doubt. A cute fuzzy kitten coiled up in a ball of string. I looked for the date, scanning across the page as it hung lifelessly. “Blake- Therapy. 1pm.” Maybe I needed to stop with the whole snooping thing.

Therapy.  What a pretty word. Therapy. It sticks to your tongue. It could be said in many ways. One is ugly and cruel. One is sad and mellow. One is almost melodic, a little like treacle, sticky on the hands and sweet in the mouth. You have to deal with it forever but I guess it’s meant to help; only it just gets you messy again.

I wondered why he went. Silly me.

“Beth, you’re awake!”

“Yes, I am, you left me lying like sleeping beauty for a hundred years.”

I didn’t comment on the fact I wasn’t particularly attractive in anyway and he was only lying when he called me lovely.

“Too bad true loves first kiss didn’t wake her.” He wiggled his eyebrows, trying to distract me from the fact I was standing next to the calendar with his little cat in my arms.

“Too bad her fist didn’t meet prince playboy.”

“I think it was prince charming actually.”

“Nope.”

My head made contact with the harsh wooden surface of the table, my eyes closed, my arms fell limp and my legs did too. I didn’t want to go anywhere. I was too tired. I had so many questions but again- too tired.

“I have a little surprise for you?”

“Really?”

“It’s at your house.”

“This is my house now, I’ve secretly built a gang base ready to take it over completely.”

“Fine then, your mother’s house.”

“She isn’t my mother but I shall accept.”

“I have a special metaphorical gift at a woman’s house you have never made contact with.”

“Better.”

“We have to go now then.”

“I’m too tired.”