The Illuminant

Chapter 4

The cliff is so high and I can hear my heart beating violently against my chest.

Beads of perspiration roll into my shirt.

I look down again and the waters are dashing mercilessly against the deadly looking rocks.
I can hear their voices behind me. They are far away but they are approaching quickly. It's only a matter of time before they would find me.

I look back but the rain is too heavy for me to see clearly. I have to depend only on my sense of hearing to identify thier presence and that is already greatly disturbed by the sound of the rain.

Suddenly, I feel a push behind me and down I go.

Down, down, down......

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! "

I jerk up violently and the covers fall down to my waist.
I look around in relief to see I'm in my room not falling down the cliff.

My chest is rising and falling uncontrollably and I switch on the light.

It was a nightmare.

I look at the clock.

9:am.

Mom must have left for church. I climb out of bed and wrap my dressing gown around my shoulders.

It's cold and the sweat rolling down my forehead doesn't make me any warmer.

Slipping my feet into my bed slippers, I walk across my room to the door and push it open and head down the flight of stairs to the kitchen.

I open the cupboard and pull out a bottle of wine and pour myself a glass.
I don't drink much, it's just that in cases like this, some alcohol helps.

After draining the red liquid, I pour myself another from the transparent glass bottle.

Grabbing the now full glass, I leave the kitchen and walk towards the verander and push open the screen door still sipping from my glass quietly.
with my other hand folded under my chest.

My mind begins to wander back to the nightmare. The weather, I noticed greatly resembles the one on that horrible night dad died. I suck in a huge column of air in the bid to calm my nerves and not think so much on the subject.

The gentle breeze caresses my face and I take in the cool and fresh smell emanating from the trees in the garden below.
Obviously, the gardener is doing a very good job.
Placing my unfinished glass in the cup holder attachced to the lounge chair and flop on the chair, letting out a huge breath.

My mind replays Mr. Stanford's words,

"Are you really happy?

I bury my face in my palms and sob.

Why is life so unfair? I've worked so hard to get to where I am now.

For crying out loud, I live in one of the richest neighborhoods in New York!
This have been my dream and I have achieved it.

Why isn't it enough.

Why do I still feel this gaping emptiness inside. What else do I have to do.

Tired of crying in the lounge, I walk back to the sitting room, fumble for the remote and turn on the TV.

While sniffing and wiping my nose with the sleeve of my shirt, I scroll through the channels.

1 minute,

2 minutes,

3 minutes, and that's it.