"Little Windows" - Entry for Brigit's Flame, Oct. 2012 week 1 entry
My first short story in a while. It feels good to get my head back in the game.
Title: "Little Windows"
Brigit's Flame Oct. 2012 week 1 entry
Prompt: Laughter
Wordcount/rating: 670 words, rated PG
Author: Graham Patrick Smith (chuck_the_plant)
Natalie sat at her computer, trying once again to digest the required reading for her American History class. She had been reading the same line for the last fifteen minutes, and every time she got to the end she realized that she had forgotten what the sentence had been about in the first place. Finally giving in to the futility of the task, she closed her laptop and turned her red, blurry eyes to the television to find something - anything - that could take her mind off of it.
Every show, every commercial seemed to read her mind and project her fears in living color. A commercial for diapers. A homeless single mother on a crime drama. A washed-up actress pitching life insurance.
Once again she felt terrified enough to vomit, so she rushed from her bedroom, through the small common area she shared with the other girl in her flat, and into the bathroom. Her stomach heaved and tears squeezed their way through her clenched eyelids, but there was nothing left in her stomach. She bit her lip against sobs again and felt too weak, physically and emotionally, to lift herself from the bathroom floor.
When she finally emerged back into the living room minutes later, Natalie was relieved to find herself still the only one home. She had made an excuse not to go out with her roommate Camille that night. In truth she did need to study for an exam, so it hadn’t been a complete lie. But she knew well that there would be no studying that night.
Back inside her bedroom, Natalie spied the little plastic stick that she had pissed on a few minutes ago, sitting on a small stack of paper towels on top of her dresser. She quickly looked away before her eyes could play tricks on her and convince her that she saw things in its little display that weren’t there. The box said twenty minutes, and it had been less than ten.
Natalie curled into a ball on her bed and clutched a pillow in her arms. Terror twisted her insides with icy claws, robbing her of everything that she had hoped for her life. How would she finish college? How would she find a job? How would she go all the places she wanted to go, see all the things she wanted to see?
Simple. She wouldn’t.
A freight train of horrors roared through Natalie’s mind, each passing car dragging her further and further down the tracks. What she wouldn’t give for someone to comfort her, to tell her that everything was going to be okay. But she and Justin had broken up two days before she discovered that she was late; what would he think if she called him now, three weeks later? And yes, the two of them were toxic for one another; but even if she had to deal with weekly fights for the rest of her life, it would be better than being alone.
After all, she was only nineteen. Surely no one else would ever have her if she had a baby at her age.
Natalie watched the minutes tick by on her bedside clock, one by one. Each one felt like a knife being drawn across her heart, each time separating another sliver of her hopes and dreams. Punishment for a few reckless nights.
When the twentieth minute finally sliced away what remained of her, Natalie picked herself up from her mattress. The world seemed to spin beneath her footsteps as she approached the dresser. She was trapped underwater, unable to breathe, strangely weightless, as her blurry eyes tried to focus on the plastic stick.
Picking it up gently by the paper towel, Natalie stared at the picture window. She knew the difference between the signs; she had studied the box obsessively before forcing herself to throw it away. Standing with the rest of her life literally displayed before her, Natalie could only find one small, choked laugh in her throat.