Fear

I remember the first day as vividly as if it were only yesterday. The large, white van slowly moving up the driveway, my tear-stained fingers gripping my father’s arm refusing to let go. The icy stares were glowering from every visible window pane, my four year-old mind swirling in a million different directions with each nervous step onto the bus. The doors slammed shut behind me and the last images of my dad faded from view.

When the doors opened once again, we were in a foreign land. One with crowds of people all pushing and shoving with tired expressions that could not have been more clear if you'd drawn them on with permanent markers. Creaks from swirling death traps far ahead echoed through the air, followed by the entertained giggles from the inhabiting group.

My quivering legs ached with every movement and my knees became weak. Then I was falling, just like that. The world shook with blurring colours as my short life flashed before my eyes. Droplets of blood splattered across the concrete pavement as my fragile hands hit the cold, hard ground.

The alien species began to laugh as they realised my misfortunes, poking and prodding at my pudgy, red cheeks, pulling at strands of my dad's poor attempt at a braid and commenting on my every imperfection as my eyes swelled up, welcoming the oncoming tears. I scrambled up onto my feet and fled, running straight through a bright red door and into the toilets.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, rolling one after another drip, drop, drip, drop and so I sobbed, behind a locked cubicle door, for what felt like hours. Awaiting the hour that someone would come and rescue me from this scary place. That my friends, was my first day at school.