unfolding

an excerpt from the beginning of my novel transverse.

I crave adventure on my tongue but I'm condemned within welfare-ridden walls.  I used to look forward to long train rides and now all I crave is the concept of appreciating sunlight.  I don't really know how to pinpoint when everything went south.

We've all heard the horror stories.  I used to bury myself within the mass of covers at night, cowering in fear after the images of monsters unimaginable crept into the back of my skull.  We all ran into the comfort of our parents bedrooms, thinking that we were safe.  I missed out on this sense of false security.  I awaited my demise completely petrified,  but nobody would come.  Out of all of the tales they told, nobody found one that left the realm of fantasy and into the bedrooms and frightened children.  Then again, nobody heard about the voices either.

The time that they entered my life is foggy in my memory.  In my childhood I remember having the feeling of never being alone, even when I was playing by myself.  When I told my parents about it, they deemed it to imaginary friends and an "overactive imagination".  I felt my soul take a turn downhill at the fragile age of 12.

Looking back, I realize how fucked up it was.  Little Savannah just started 7th grade.  Little Savannah sat in the bathtub slitting her wrists and let the steaming hot water pour all over the wound, giggling at how the water turned a dark red as it slipped down the drain.  Other people were worrying about the next dance while I was composing my suicide notes that would become nothing more than pathetic rough drafts and finding new locations that would only make me bleed deeper.

These cravings for burning skin and the thrill of seeing how much I could flirt with death started when a whisper encompassed me.  At first it didn't muster anything I wasn't already aware of.  I knew that I didn't fit in with my surroundings; that there was some kind of atmosphere I gave off that made people run in the other direction.  A fucked up freak with a twisted mind and the ratty hair to match.

It's terrifying to say that the period of my life where I succumbed to the voices was easily the most tranquil I ever felt in my life.  Sinking underneath the waves is so easy.  You forget everything around you and just wait for the blood to run out enough to become completely submerged.  Yet every time I was on the brink, something got in my way.  Everyone around me saw it as an opportunity to start over.  I managed to battle my demons off until a few nights ago when I heard someone trying to get my attention before I went to bed.  He was so close I could feel the wet breath on the inner corners of my ear.  But when I opened my eyes, nobody was there.