Author: Flickeringdedications

The little girl heard a noise. There was shouting down stairs. She got up out of bed and crept along the hallway. At the top of the stairs, she stopped and peered downstairs. Her mother was home! Her mothers boyfriend was there too. He didn’t look happy. Neither did her mother. They were both exchanging words, full of venom. The girl looked back towards her room and wondered if she should be watching this. Then the man yelled and pulled her attention back to downstairs. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. She could only hear the noise they made. Then he did it. He pushed her mummy. Her mother was fast though, and managed to slip away around the table they were standing out. But he didn’t seem to like that. He began yelling louder and pointing at her. Her mum had her finger to her lips trying to hush the man. But he didn’t seem to like that either.

The little girl wanted to run down and yell at this man, but she was too scared. Glued to the spot, as if watching something that was on the TV and not happening in her lounge room. She watched as the man made a dash around the table, he was pointing more and more, and got angrier and angrier. Her mother was fast though, and managed to duck around the table avoiding him. If it weren’t for the sounds coming from them, or the terror plastered on her mothers face, it may have been a silly game.

But it wasn’t a game..

Not after what he did next.

Her mother had caught a glance of the little girl sitting on the top stair, staring down at her. She lost her footing. That was all he needed..

He caught her..

He punched her in the stomach first.

He kicked her legs.

He dragged her hair.

Before he left, he yelled down at her mothers body lying on the floor. The girl was able to hear this though. It rang in her mind, for years to come.

“This is your fault”

Once he had left, the girl crept downstairs to her mother. Her mother was sobbing. She curled into her mother and there they laid.

Both broken..

She stared down at her hands. Thoughts tumbled into her mind, with no hesitation and without permission. She couldn’t shake the rage that filled her as she looked at the space around her. Her home was a mess. Things not put away, an over filled bin, crumbs over the kitchen and an air of neglect filling the room. Her partner was not home. This meant she could vent her frustration with a serious of sounds that she wasn’t even sure she could describe.

Why must she be the only one that bears the responsibility on her back? This wasn’t the real reason she was frustrated though. She knew that she was not innocent to leaving a mess behind. Stopping to clear the mess and instead letting herself fall onto a nearby couch. It wasn’t long before sobs began to rack through her body. The frustration finally getting the better of her, and bubbling to the surface. She cried for a false perception of a relationship. Watching her parents marriage fail, she had created a perception of what a relationship should look like; sharing of responsibilities, compassion, love and romance. Her relationship was near close to this, only missing two components. Compassion was an easily forgotten concept in a relationship, stopping and considering another is something that herself and her partner had fallen short of multiple times. The frustration and tears were targeted at the false perceptions of love that showered her as she grew up. The movies that had sold her a lie and the books that had swept her off her feet.

Romance.

Pure and simple, a romantic story filled to the brim with cringe worthy love. She had spent many Saturday’s curled up in bed devouring books that contained nothing but sickly love and romantic gestures to last a lifetime. Knights being chivalrous to fair maidens, men waiting outside a woman’s window, hidden moments in time that did nothing but made her swoon. This passion that she had spent her time observing and studying, was lacking in modern society. She never admitted that she was a hopeless romantic, not to herself or her partner. He was many things, including her best friend, he was good for her, and he loved her.

But she still felt it. Craved it. Needed it. The want to be swept up in a whirlwind of love and romance. To feel as one of her heroines did, special and cherished. She looked down at her hands once more and felt silly for thinking such things. She had a good strong man. They could laugh together and conquer the world together. Such thoughts could have been indulged in a different time. Such romantic thoughts could be dreamt of during another era.

This world and this time, meant another form of a relationship. One where it no longer had time for things such as romantic gestures. Love notes, romantic picnics and beautiful moments were to be reserved for her movies, books and imagination.

She looked around her home, her eyes catching on a photo of them both laughing. She was lucky to have found him. Beginning to clean the home around her, she allowed herself a fantasy; just one. The fantasy caught her up and let her slip away into another world as she cleaned.  A world where romance hadn’t died, and she was currently being swept into a  flurry of sweet love..

 

She woke with a start.

She felt the similar sensations; unwelcome, unwanted and the most dominate of them, scared. She looked up from her bed, expecting to see him there. The man she’s spent her whole life being afraid of.

He was at the top of her stairs, he waited in the dark, he sat in her dreams waiting for her.

He never leaves her..

No matter if its day or night. As long as she’s functioning, he has now become apart of her. He calls her shadows home. He is her second thought, he lives in her doubts and he thrives in her nightmares. He was her demon.

No matter how hard she tried, these thoughts wouldn’t escape her. She did as she always did and got up then checked the house. He wasn’t there. He never was. Not any more. She was physically free of her demon, but mentally still his prisoner. He would never relinquish his control of her mind. She turned and looked at the clock on the wall, it said 1:22 am. Still so long till she would be free of this hell. Every night it was the same. Wake happy, free almost. Then the air begins to thicken around her. That noise. This noise. Did the stairs just creak? Her demon was so close.. This demon survives in every noise and continues to trembles her nerves since that very first time..

She tried looking at her phone, finding meaningless distractions. Nothing could shake the terror that lived within each blood cell in her body. Till 3:15am she would not be safe. From her mind or her memories. The minutes ticked by. Never going faster, always going slower..

Finally the time came, she heard the noise. Her saviour for the night. 3:15 in the morning, and her front door silently shut. She didn’t move, as she had spent her night waiting for this final relief. She listened to his footsteps, each step, meant a step closer to sanity and safety.

Her saviour and safe haven was home. The man that had reduced the shadows surrounding her thoughts. He seemed to make the noises that frightened her before, seem nothing but a harmonious melody of the night.

She could never be free. Even now this was an innocence she could never ask to be returned, freedoms that would never be awarded to her. The demon followed her every move.

Till her saviour lightened the darkness.

Her saviour met her in her nightmares, and he lead her to safety each and every night. As she sobbed once more in his arms, he held her and her pain. He held her together, when she felt she could no longer be just a singular entity, he held the broken pieces that she had become.

The demon had robbed more than just her innocence, but her essence. Her fire, her independence and her strength. He consumed more of her thoughts each and every day.

Her only relief relied upon one person.

For this woman..

It took the world itself, the moon and every star in the sky to bring the tiniest of sparkle to her eye again. But it changed slowly. Don’t in any way think this was quick or fast. It was slow and difficult.

It consumed her minutes;

Days.

Months.

Years,

even decades of her life.

But it was worth it. Every whisper, touch and memory. The feeling of love and appreciation. It held her tightly, even now. The saviour won the battle for her each and every night. He taught her of love and kindness. It seeped into her soul slowly. Till she won a battle, here. There. She kept winning, learning to love.

Till one day.

One day that came too slowly, but was much anticipated.

The one day that she felt her pieces coming together.

The day she felt whole again.

 

She looked through the small round window sitting in the middle of the door. She knew why she was here, even if they wouldn’t tell her. Closing her eyes, she took a breath. It didn’t seem to bring in the flood of calm that she required. A face appeared in the small round window, it was red and tear streaked. She didn’t want to look at the face and the emotions being played out as they looked at her. The person behind her pushed the small of her back, pushing her to take a step forward to the tear streaked face behind the door. The girl took a step unwillingly, and slowly let her feet take her forward, as her mind screamed to go in the other direction. Run, it was telling her. Run. The lady with the red and tear streaked face embraced her as she walked through the door. The walls around them were too white and the hug was too tight. They didn’t have to say the words. She knew. Everyone in the room avoided her glance. It seemed as if they were trying to find the words they should be saying to her, on the much too white walls surrounding them. She was pushed to a room, as a mixture of words from the lady were spilling into the silence. But her ears seemed not to be working today. She wasn’t able to make out what the lady was saying, she could only focus her eyes to what was lying in front of her. If she told anyone this story in the future, she wouldn’t be able to describe the room she was standing in. Only of what was in the centre of the room.

A lady who was lying too still..

She couldn’t look away..

The lady was lying too still on a simple hospital bed. The colour in her face wasn’t the normal blush and warmth of a summers sunset. It was a foreign colour. It was pale and cold. The lady’s face was empty of emotion. The moment was finally broken by someone talking, and finally her ears seemed to comprehend the words being spoken.

“She needs to see this, or she won’t believe it to be true.”

The girl didn’t need to see it to be true. She knew the truth the moment she got the call to come here. The moment she got in the car. The drive to the hospital. As she walked those dreaded steps.

She knew all along.

She knew the truth.

The girl knew well before she looked at this lady lying pale, cold and still in front of her.

She already knew that her mother was dead.

She felt a whisper of cloth on her skin and someone’s lips touching her cheek. Sounds began to slowly slip into her ears. She heard someone close by whispering. The voice was familiar, rough but filled her with love. As the voice became clearer, a sweet goodbye was being constructed and making their way into her brain. She wanted to reject this idea. But before she could wake herself to a conscious state, the man pushed a soft object into her hand and was walking out the door. It seemed to take too long for her weary eyelids to open. Too hard to swing her legs down to the floor.

Why was her body betraying her?

She didn’t realise that she was still clutching the object in her hand. She was on the stairs and moving as if in quick sand. Her heart nearly stopped at the noise of the car parked outside coming to life. Time moved too slowly for her, however seemed to move too quickly for the man. Urgency filled her veins, as she made a dash out the front door and to the drive way.

But she was too late..

The car had began chasing the moon down the silent street. The girl ran after the car, tears slowly making tracks down her face. As she realised she couldn’t catch the moon or the car. She looked at what was in her hand. A beautiful yellow feather. The same feather that had once been attached to the mans most prized possession; a beautiful yellow canary whose singing could quieten any audience, especially the girl who now stood alone in the street. Looking after the car, the road gave nothing away but the glow of the moon. She made one last attempt, to call back the man. With a strangled cry from her throat; that seemed much too loud for the silence of the night.

“Please don’t go!”

“Please, Daddy, come back.”

How often do you doubt yourself? Once or twice a day?

What if you did it for everything you do? Everything you say..

How did you just move?

What was your face doing?

Where were your hands?

Do you look suspicious?

Do you look stupid?

Maybe they know.

That I’m just a fraud…

But then I have to re-evaluate. Look at my actions and myself critically. Are those thoughts genuine concerns, or is it the constant and unforgiving pounding of my anxiety, leaving me captive to it’s destructive path through my psyche.  It’s hard to watch yourself from afar, judge yourself. Are those the actions of a bad person or am I just too critical? It’s a constant battle inside my mind of what is real and what is just nonsense that my over-worked brain concocts. I do think that I actively try to be a good person though. I have to remind myself to try, don’t be lazy, make an effort with people, smile. But what helps the most; is that I know what would make me feel better, is someone being nice to me. I depend on those moments in my day, so I like to think that’s what other people might like in their day. I try to smile to as many people as I can. I say hello to people that I see. I try to exercise being optimistic and positive. I remind myself to help someone that needs help. I try to always remember that I don’t know that persons struggle today, and that this might help them to feel better.

I try. I fail though. Usually with the people I love. I seem to forget my rules, and my efforts. Then the truth of my selfish depression consumes all that comes close. It infects their lives, consumes our conversations and impacts them in all the ways I hate. It feels like an impossible battle sometimes. I love these people and feel comfortable around them, but then I pull them into my abyss. I’m too selfish to try and distance myself because when I do I just become more depressed and angry. Then after, I ask for help. Rinse and repeat..

These incredible people though, as much as I infuriate and worry them. They tell me often and show me every day that they love me. I guess I’ll be consumed with guilt, but not before I feast on love..