Ink
And so...
I need to get out. Why? How could I stay? In this place, full of shadow. There is light outside, there are lights, but here. Here all is black, as if the shadows are ink. It's on me. I force myself to my knees and yank the suitcase to me. I toss it onto the bed and follow its momentum. I can feel my heart wake up, realize that I need it, push. Hurry, hurry, it implores. I can't hold out forever. I yank the wet clothes off me. My skinny frame is covered in bruises, my skin radiates in the darkness. Like a beacon, but I am not comforted. My throat tightens as I fumble with the clasps on the suitcase.
It is stuffed past capacity, and my mouth goes dry. i ought to know. I know. Somewhere! But I can't get to it here. My head pounds. My knees go weak and I clutch my head. I feel as though I'm going to split in two. I resist it, it ebbs, but the pain is there, at the top of my head. I yank clothes out of the case, careful not to disturb anything else, and pull them on. They're too big, but I pull my wet belt free of my clothes and adjust. I slam the case shut and find shoes at the door. I clutch the case to my chest and slide into the shoes, worried that I'll become an ugly step-sister, that my heel won't fit, or that they'll bang around my feet. I must run. They must fit.
They fit. For a moment, all goes still. My mind and my body and everything else. I just feel my shoes on my feet for a moment. But I keenly become aware of the world again with a boom of thunder. I yank the door open and am blasted by light.
For a moment, I am blind. I stand fast, but I feel the darkness swell behind me, as the light in the hall feels as though it dims, wavers.
I need to get out. Why? How could I stay? In this place, full of shadow. There is light outside, there are lights, but here. Here all is black, as if the shadows are ink. It's on me. I force myself to my knees and yank the suitcase to me. I toss it onto the bed and follow its momentum. I can feel my heart wake up, realize that I need it, push. Hurry, hurry, it implores. I can't hold out forever. I yank the wet clothes off me. My skinny frame is covered in bruises, my skin radiates in the darkness. Like a beacon, but I am not comforted. My throat tightens as I fumble with the clasps on the suitcase.
It is stuffed past capacity, and my mouth goes dry. i ought to know. I know. Somewhere! But I can't get to it here. My head pounds. My knees go weak and I clutch my head. I feel as though I'm going to split in two. I resist it, it ebbs, but the pain is there, at the top of my head. I yank clothes out of the case, careful not to disturb anything else, and pull them on. They're too big, but I pull my wet belt free of my clothes and adjust. I slam the case shut and find shoes at the door. I clutch the case to my chest and slide into the shoes, worried that I'll become an ugly step-sister, that my heel won't fit, or that they'll bang around my feet. I must run. They must fit.
They fit. For a moment, all goes still. My mind and my body and everything else. I just feel my shoes on my feet for a moment. But I keenly become aware of the world again with a boom of thunder. I yank the door open and am blasted by light.
For a moment, I am blind. I stand fast, but I feel the darkness swell behind me, as the light in the hall feels as though it dims, wavers.