by Roula Janho
A serial short story about a young woman battling a nervous depression
|“Get up, get .. up… Wakey wakey, eggs and Bakey ….maybe the freshly ground coffee smell would get you right up on your feet!…Nothing?... Really?…
C’mon now, so what’s the plan spending the whole day in bed…again? that’s not a plan, that’s just doing nothing, inactivity could not be ranged under any plan, planning means action, steps to be taken, things to do, places to go…”
“shut up, shouted Becky , shut up, please, shut the hell up! I want to be alone, that’s my plan yeah, to stay alone, I don’t want to think anymore just sleep… just sleep…”
There was sudden Silence in the room, the tic tac of the clock are now clearly heard, gradually they manage to synchronize with Becky’s heart beat creating a relaxing, rather hypnotizing atmosphere.
“Get up” the voice rise again, up a notch … breaking the magical atmosphere…
“NO NO NO! Get the hell out of my head, get out leave me alone” replied Becky angrily .
Just like a broken record, a stuck CD The voice continued with a ponderous yet even more sarcastic tone
“…Get up Get up Get up Get up get get up up…, I can keep up with that all day u know.”
Becky finally raised her head, was the attempt successful?
She pulled the quilt off her warm tiny body, sat on the edge of the bed, her hand slowly reached the night stand where her glasses just laid there next to a half filled cup of water. With shivery fingers, she grabbed the eyeglasses… she felt as if she was lifting heavy weights, she paused for a couple of seconds, took a heavy, deep breath, then with a sigh of relief opened her fingers again letting go the oddly heavy Dior eyeglasses.
Her hand then traveled further down, grabbed tightly the drawer’s handle. And with steadier fingers this time, she pulled with quite a surprising energy… her hand aimed for ….a pill packet.
“That will get you out of my hair” she whispered with a grin…
To be continued…