Alice Stays Home

Ch. FOURTEEN - With the lights out it's less dangerous

 I close my eyes, overwhelmed with horror.

The pain is less intense now. It's the awareness that is unbearable. I must be going crazy. I can't possibly have wings on my back!!!!

Short, wide, dull wings of an indefinable colour "between sewer-rat grey and sea-rock grey" (I can hear Andrea's voice in my head).

My eyes are still closed.

I wish my eyelids were glued shut. I wish I were blind so I couldn't see the monstrous appendages on my back. But alas, I can see.

This isn't really happening, it can't be happening...

THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!

I've said it so many times now, I can't seem to say anything else. As if by whispering it or shouting it out loud I could make it go away... this madness, this spell...

"This isn't happening" is my desperate mantra.

And yet, they're here. They make a noise behind my back that reminds me of when I open the little red umbrella and shake off the rain. Well, I used to shake it off, there's no danger of getting it wet now, I can't go out anymore.

Time slips away and I lose track of it.

I don't know how many seconds, minutes, hours, days have gone by.

Anyway, I make an effort to climb on my knees. I try to get up.

I cry my eyes out.

It's all flowing: tears from my eyes, blood from my shoulders, thoughts from my mind.

OK, I have to focus.

What am I going to do?

I've got to climb down from here.

I could jump down.

I have super vision now. I squint my eyes and they go back to normal. At least they do. The street is a dark strip between the buildings and the very few people below are moving dots. And a dot has no shape, no clothes, no old-fashioned shoes.

I lean over the short railing.

I could just jump and end this.

But I do have wings.

"Fuck! Shut up!" I shout to my inner voice that tries to convince me of something I reject.

I can't jump. I'm afraid to die, that's the truth. I can't find the courage to imagine myself flying. The terror of ending up as human mush on the tarmac is a barrier much higher than the rusty railing I hold tight with my fingers.

I look behind me again. I can see them.

The wings of a freak. I'd clip them immediately if only I had shears with me.

THIS IS NOT HAPPENING TO ME!

I climb over the railing.

I'm determined, this time it's really over.

But I panic again. I have butterflies in my stomach pushing my heart right up in my mouth. A wave of nausea rises up to my throat. I'm holding back the vomit. But I still stretch my arms out, while the wind blows my hair over my forehead and my T-shirt flutters.

I feel there's something odd.

I feel a movement that radiates from my chest to my back and then continues in the feathered appendages that have dismembered my shoulder blades.