My fingers death grip my phone while I slip from the bench to hide on the floor. My heart kicks at my chest, filling my ears with a whooshing, turning me deaf. Rolling flat on my belly, trying to rationalize with myself because where the hell am I going to army crawl to? Under the bed? Fuck that, it’s the first place they’ll look!
I’m in the dark, so there’s no light, only the moon. If someoneislurking outside, theyshouldn’tbe able to see me. Right?
Sweet baby angels, why am I trusting hearsay at a time like this?!?!
Let’s be real, the damn person that claimed this theory could’ve been loony. But it’s not like I have a ton of options. I need to know if I really saw something lurking around. What if it’s my exhaustion playing wicked tricks on my tired brain?
Awkwardly, I maneuver to my knees, twisting myself up like a pretzel, trying to keep my ass below the window. Scooting on the floor as close as possible to the bench, I position myself on my knees to peek outside. Still clutching the phone, holding my breath, and stretching my neck the tiniest bit.
I gasp, lungs choking on fear, when my eyes land on the shadow cast across the yard. Almost positive, I see something move behind the tree.
“Fuck,” I whisper shout, hitting the deck, falling flat on my belly again.
Panic strikes hard and fast, surging adrenalin by the cup fulls into my veins. Without thinking, I slither like an uncoordinated caterpillar across the carpet. My goal: to get to the master bath and lock myself inside.
Because that’s not the second place they’re gonna look!
I'm completely out of breath from slithering, shaky hands fumbling with the lock on the doorknob. My eyes quickly bounce around the room, failing to find a good hiding spot, leaving me no choice but to curl into a ball and tuck myself into the corner of the shower.
At least it’ll be an easy cleanup after they kill you. Shut up!!
Awful thoughts blast me, sweat gathering on my clammy skin while I work to catch my breath and unlock my phone. Tears stab at the backs of my eyes when I realize I’ve got no phone service.
This town’s the definition of shit show!
Resting my forehead on my knees, tears dripping, soaking my legs as hopelessness takes hold. Hating the panic consuming me, the same as it has for years. The attacks started from the fear of being watched. The sensation has constantly tormented me like a sixth sense. Shaking me to my core, literally rattling my soul.
When I was home, the attacks were manageable. Mom pretended to care when I was young, taking time to talk me through the worst ones. Sometimes, she would read to me to help distract my racing brain. But, as I got older, she became more annoyed with the ‘distractions’ as she liked to call them. That’s when she decided having cameras installed around the grounds would have some magical healing power.
It made going places with friends hard. I usually ended up freaking out. Perpetually feeling like strange eyes were watching me, to the point I'd feel crippled at times, frozen, every part of me hypersensitive. Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone. It’s always just been a sensation that poured over me.
Until tonight.
The fake friends I had thought I was crazy. I know they judged me and talked tons of shit behind my back. I'm sure that's how I became known as Queen X. Of course, they never dared to say anything to my face. They wouldn't get themselves canceled that easily. They weren't dumb. I didn’t understand any of it until I got older, but I figured it out quickly.
Mom got me a therapist, which freed up her time, and clued me in on a few things about life.
By high school, all the taunting was in the past. Let’s just say, I adopted the 'Queen’ role and scared the shit outta those bitches. It's fun watching haters flounder like a fish out of water when confronted. Suddenly, they lose their tongues. I'll just say they were happy to become my pawns and leave it at that.
I owned the wild-outspoken-party girl persona they wanted me to be. I refused to let having money dictate what I wore. Which really ate at their asses because they didn't have someone dictating their appearance for them. They had to make decisions independently unless they wanted to walk around like me in ugly gas station hoodies and thongs from Target.
I bet they're so happy I disappeared.
The trip down memory lane distracts me enough, I finally feel my eyes getting droopy. The panic attack fades, allowing the exhaustion from the adrenalin crash to set in. I rest my head on my knees again for just a second until I can figure out what to do next.
twelve
Promises
Tulip: 2009 Age: 12
I’ve noticed nothing ever changes around this place. It’s always dark. Sometimes, little bits of sunshine sneak through the high windows, scaring away the creepy crawlies, but usually, it's just dark and quiet.
I probably would have forgotten how to talk if B wasn’t here. He’s the only reason I get out of bed most days.
Boys are pretty gross, but he’s growing on me.
The door at the end of the hall opens, and I hear two sets of feet along with a scraping sound. It’s odd.