The anger subsides, I feel a throbbing hot spot above my left eyebrow, it's this sharp pin prick like heat that acts as a subtle indicator that I have had yet another episode. I never recall the moments leading up to my outbursts, the professionals say I have selective recollection for the antecedents - which is purely self serving - what do they know? They have no understanding of the fleeting seconds leading up to my inevitable internal unraveling which manifests into a sharp high pitched scream, a scream which never fails to draw me back in to the present. I detest that heat, the way it simmers gently under the skin before bringing to the boil a strong wave of guilt and confusion and a reminder than I can never be honest to Lincoln.
As I crouch here in the corner of our room I stare at our premarital bed with the taste of disappointment infused regret in the back of my throat. It's not Linc himself that I'm concerned with, no, it's the way that he always tries to get me out there, beyond the door. What's eleven days? I'm fully capable of going out, I just don't feel the need to. Furthermore being told, "you need to get some fresh air," is ridiculous, it's London for crying out loud. Children are literally dying from inhaling the hazardous Co2.
I'm sleepy...
YOU ARE READING
A Moment Stays
KurzgeschichtenWhen challenges arise in daily life most of us adapt and overcome, for Zaylee the issue is daily life itself. Take a look inside her notebook and see if you're able to unlock the mystery.
