Fear. She stares at the white screen and all she can feel in the back of her mind is fear. Everything was so nice and shiny just a couple of hours ago. Making plans, thinking about the future, hating 99% of the people, crawling through the hours and dodging the minutes. But as the dusk approached the too well-known shadows started to creep at the edges of her conscience. Like a thought which is hanged, drowned, shunned and bled until only its ghost remains. If a thought can be pushed over to the edges of the to-do list, the ghost of that thought has the pressure of 20 m of water, 20 kilos of music and 3 blinks of air. It was then when her thoughts crystallized to fear.
Knowing is worse than assuming and the most cruel executioner is herself. Always, repeating, neverending, every day. She twitches and turns in pain, unmoving on the 4-legged chair. She screams in mute sounds. Her eyes dead, looking into the limited void of the four walls. The walls can be only four and the ceiling can be only one, but the mind is infinite. Infinite to whip, infinite to watch, infinite to bear. The chair is in the perfect middle of the room. The centimeters insanely measured, the posture irrationally controlled. Waiting. She’s waiting for the fear to digest her. The executioner is too cruel to strike the clean blow. That she is just smiling knowingly in the mirror.
It’s too dark, the breathing too loud and the squeaks too sharp. Her thoughts are lost somewhere on the way between her and the outside. The fear again, a wave of coldness fast like a shivering snake biting in her backbone. She wants to kill it, smash the head of the snake between her thumb and her forefinger. To feel the blood crawling. To feel the teeth losing their grip. To feel the fear drawing back in fear. Sweet abandon, sweet venom of numbness, sweet eyes which close to the light of darkness. It’s easy, nobody is left to throw the blame, nobody. Nobody is left to turn away, nobody. Nobody is left to bleed her dry, nobody.