Pictures on the Wall

This is the start of a longer piece

 

Pictures on the Wall

 

Have you ever been afraid of the dark?

I remember… it’s supposed to be a common thing. You start to sweat, sticky-cold sweat that leaves your skin slick. Your mouth goes dry and lumps choke in the back of your throat. The hairs on your arms and neck tingle and stand up. Your heart rattles in you chest like a caged bird…

            I used to be afraid of the dark… when I was small.

 

Now… I’m afraid of the light.

 

I can’t remember why the crack of light cuts the darkness and my nerves like a cold blade. I just know I have to hide, to block out the light. I turn my head while the caged bird cries. I take flight in the pictures on the wall but the pictures can’t block the dark salty reek, the feelings - like oil on water, fouling the feathers of sea birds, pulling them down, drowning them - drowning me…

 

 

Dappled light spills across the girls face, the play of freckles and the delicate bud of her smile, across the glittering sequins of her shirt. 1…2…3… Her fingers trail over rough weathered wood, splintery-grey. 4…5…6… Young flowers, tight like pressed lips softly breathe their blossoming sweetness into the sharp tang of old pine and musty dirt. 7…8…9… Silken strands of hair whisper across her face; tickle her cheek, cling to her mouth until she sweeps them away with long slender fingers. 10… Ready or not here I come…

 

The cobweb dark behind the splintered shed door is the perfect place to hide. She can hear the footsteps around the corner, slapping the path, coming closer. …pulling her down… The hinge groans, opening a crack of shadow …oil on the water… She peers inside, cords of light, alive with shimmering dust, slant through the gloom …pressing down… amplifying the salty darkness beyond. A shiver of spiders crawl down her spine ...stench of bile… the door slams closed.

Callie peers through the tattered leaves. “Found you Sonia.”

Pushing her way through the snagging branches, she sweeps her hand forward. “You’re it…”

            Sonia runs, hair streaming behind her, mad laughter spilling from her mouth. Lungs burn at the sound of Callie’s feet pound behind her …closer… harsh breathing rasping …sour sweat, a weight constricting her chest... The safety of the fig tree is only metres away …drowning… just a few more steps …closer pulling her down…  

            “You’re… it.”

            Sonia feels the sting of Callie’s hand on the back as her palms slap the bark. 

            “I’m safe.”

“Nah got you. I’ve got to find the others now.”

            Sonia lay down, breathing hard, staring at the dappled leaves listening to the footsteps recede. 

She closes her eyes. 

            Dark.

           

            Have you ever been afraid of the dark?

            I remember…

 

*

 

            “Good morning Sonia.”

            Sonia blinked open gritty eyes and looked around the room, at the stranger who spoke, at the young man beside her, at the window - the ice blue sky and the tattered white clouds beyond. Her gaze lingered on the side wall and the dozens of photographs mounted there.  They all showed the same girl, a teen in some, younger in others, alone and in groups. In all the photographs, the girl has the most startling eyes, Sonia’s eyes.

“My eyes,” Sonia thought. 

            “Sonia, this is Adam.”

            She reluctantly looked away for the photographs. An animal groan escaped cracked lips. She looked startled, her head thrashed weakly from side to side.

            “Sonia’s our youngest patient,” the nurse said to Adam. “She was in a car accident last Christmas and suffered a severe brain stem injury.” She patted Sonia on the leg and beamed her brightest fake smile.

            Sonia felt nothing.

            “Adam’s with us for a few weeks and he’s going to be helping with your exercises.”

            The nurse turned toward Adam.

            “Sonia is one of the worst cases of Traumatic Head Injury we have ever had at Brookedale. She is basically paralyzed from the neck down. Her spinal cord is intact so she does still have some sensation but she has no voluntary muscle control, even her tongue is partially paralyzed. Not many patients with injuries this sever would have survived.”

            Sonia’s gaze darted about the room and thin beads of perspiration formed on her upper lip and forehead.

            “You will need to do her physical therapy three times a day. She already has contractures and we don’t want to resort to surgery to repair them.”

            Adam looked down at Sonia’s hands. They were curled into loose fists.

            “Ok Adam, I’ll introduce you to the other patients in the wing and then you can get started.” She walked out of the room without even looking back at Sonia.

            Adam stepped up to the bed and took hold of Sonia’s hand.

            “I’ll be back in a little bit to help you with your breakfast.