Friday, 10 May 2013

Glimpse by Michayla Clemens

Softly, softly, water drops drips from that old metal tap. Touching it with my biggest toe, I wonder-will I miss it? It will not miss me.

Shouting words that are muffled by the floorboards above me make me jump. My heart leaps with every sound, my ears prick at every second. Heavy footsteps are on the stairs and they creak with the weight.
My body relaxes and I drift under the blanket of water. Deeper and deeper it takes me. It shuts out the incomprehensible words above that go louder just before I am under.

My own voice inside my head is the only thing I hear. Fuzzy moving images, short fast words, just a glimpse, and the mind works non-stop. So many things to think about, there is never enough silence. There are always too many things.

I love this world but yet I will not miss it. And it will not miss me.

The water is cold now and they have forgotten about me. There is no shouting above me, no footsteps on the stairs, not even the tap dripping. My worst fear has always been that this would happen. That I would be forgotten, and I would not exist. But now that it has, I am glad to have it. It is peaceful without them, it is quiet.

My eyes are closed now and there is no pain. There is no joy either, no laughter no butterflies.  But I notice the absence of pain the most. Why is that? I have been living in a permanent sense of pain and not known it? Or is it just that I fear it most so it haunts me most.

How cruel is life that it allows your pain and fear to eat you up?

My breath catches.

A small hand touches my shoulder with fingers that don’t stretch very far. It makes my eyes open again, to be greeted by two more wide ones. They are blue like the water I lie in and yet they seem to drift me up rather than pull me down.

The water breaks away from my face and it is free to touch the surface, my nose, my mouth, my chin. But still the little hand stays touching my skin. That connection brings me closer and the water is gone where air now sits.

I grip to the sides of the bath with my wrinkled, drowning fingers to steady myself. A sigh escapes my lips and my teeth chatter as it realizes the icy cold.

The little hand is connected to me and to an arm which is connected to a body. A body so small it looks fragile to even be walking. Connected to this body is a head and this, a face. A face so beautiful it makes me cry though I would not know it, water is already dripping down my cheek bones. This face has a button nose and blushing roses on both sides. This face has sapphire eyes and a forest of russet hair. This face has a mouth which whispers through tiny pink lips -

“Don’t go”.

With two words, one hand has pulled me up to a surface I won’t miss and won’t miss me.

The noise, the stress, the mind racing, I will not miss it. But I will miss the one who owns the small hand.

So I won’t go. Instead, I stay. 

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