The waiting place

Chapter five: Everyone's favourite punching bag

Panting. Sweating. Gasping for air. I was still running, desperately looking for somewhere to catch my breath, somewhere to relax. Looking up, I realise, the trees! Surely an old and frail man wouldn't be able to climb up there after me. This would give me time to relax; to think of a better plan. My eyes wondered over to a dying oak tree. Far above, the branches twisted like distorted limbs reaching out towards me. The monstrous moss towered over me - creating a pool of shadows at my feet. Hastily, I began to climb. At least now, I'd be able to get a better view of where I was and how the hell I could get out of here.

By the time I'd reached the top, my hands were cut, swollen and dirty. Great. Just what I needed. Another item to add to my "things to be miserable about" list. As if I didn't already have a mad man chasing me through a forest out in the middle of nowhere. Oh. Not to forget the fact that I'm dead and every day my memory of life is slowly slipping away. The trees reached out for miles. There wasn't any sign of anything else. I sighed. I couldn't handle it anymore.

Mother always told me that if I was scared or worried about something, I was to imagine it floating further and further away from me until I couldn't see it anymore. She said that if I was ever afraid, I had to push through it, I had to be strong. Truth is, I'm not. I'm weak. I always have been. Even when I was alive. Never brave. Always afraid, always anxious. I was the quiet one, scared of most people - the way they judged me or made fun of me. That seemed to be people's favourite hobby. I was everyone's favourite punching bag. Every day they'd come and destroy another part of me. Every day, my self-worth got worse. Eventually, there was nothing left of me to lose. Their words began to seep through to my brain. Whatever positive thoughts I had, were long gone. I was a walking lump of depression and negativity. I still am.

As much as I tried to hold it in, I failed. The pain came tumbling out like an uproar from my throat in the form of a silent scream. Beads of water started falling down my face, one after the other, without showing any sign of stopping. I leaned my head against one of the tree's branches and tried to scream but nothing happened. The muffled sobs wracked against my chest. The world turned into a blur and any sounds became noiseless. The taste. The smell. Everything was gone. The last of my painful and no longer bottled up emotions slammed against me. My heart ached tremendously. I closed my eyes so tightly they might as well have been superglued shut. Even though I'm not religious - I prayed. I prayed that this would all be over soon, or at least, that it would end eventually. I just wanted my pain to stop. Please just make it stop...