Wake

Prologue

I’ll go home tonight, grab the front door handle and pull quite hard because of the orange stuff around the hinges. Then I’ll realise that the orange bits aren’t the reason that it won’t open and that I must get my key out from my pocket, the one with half of the stitching undone. I will picture Kasey’s sewing machine before grabbing the old biscuit out of the pocket, which will stay glued to my sweaty palm as I try to shake it off. I will then grasp my key which will be at the very bottom of my never ending hole in the side of blazer.  I will put the key in the hole, turning it once forward and twice back.

I’ll enter my ‘house’, loosen my grip on the handle of my bag and watch it fall, pathetically, to the floor.I shall then scan the front hall, focusing on weird blue bit on the carpet and hole in the wall that wasn’t there when the two of us moved in. I’ll hear my sister shout out to me ‘how’z school’ and I’ll reply ‘same’ and she’ll know that I’ve ended the conversation.  I will pull my shoes off and chuck them in the corner behind the door which I shall regret because the will be a mouse or rat thing there and it shall abuse my ears with its squeals. I will then think that I should not worry about rats abusing my ears since I’ve heard much worse things in my life. I’ll take a step forward and scream in pain as I step on something coming up through the brown carpet then run with red eyes down into the back garden and hit the ground bashing the concrete with my bare hands not caring for the pain.

I will then calm down and sit on the pile of bricks picking at the dead skin on my hands while looking around at the world wishing I was Kasey. Or Joanne. I will start pacing round the back yard (still picking at my dead skin) then stop and put my hands on my waist thinking that at least I can feel my ribs now.  I’ll then smell the air and my good mood will be gone as I get a whiff of stale bread and sour milk. My face will be sour too as my eyes follow my nose over to ‘the house’. Once again I will sit down onto the pile of bricks and rub my eyes in frustration. I will look up to the sky, strait up into the sun in hope that it will burn them away so that they can’t be cruel to me any longer before looking down onto my fat arms which lay on my lap. I will trace the horizontal lines that cover them with my finger, pondering when the next one will appear. The love of my life will then fly down and land on my shoulder. He will look beautiful in his white robes and little gold thing that float around his head and he will talk to me about the silly stuff that makes the world go round.

How do I know all of this you may ask, well that I can answer, the same thing happens to me every day and I don’t know why, I can’t control it. I know about it before and after it happens but I always seem to forget that I have gone through this before while I’m living it through.