One

She wakes up with a start, a cold sweat filming her skin. She swings her legs off the bed and sits her head bent toward her knees. She stares at her hands which are shaking and absently a tear mixed with sweat trickles down her cheek and drops onto her down-turned palm. She breathes in deeply and slowly exhales. On shaky knees she gets up and heads downstairs, the light at the landing blinding her momentarily.

She walks into the living room and flips on the TV. A nightmarish image of a twisted dead body blurs in her tear-filled vision. She thinks of death. Again.

"Coward..." a little voice whispers in her head.

She scowls. She then wipes at her eyes. She tries to shun away thoughts and images that keep lurking in the back of her brain constantly now. She tries to concentrate on the movie showing on the TV. It doesn’t work. She absently pads into the kitchen and reaches for a glass on the dish rack. Her hand stops just a few inches above a knife. She sighs and continues to get a glass. She pours water and drinks in two gulps. She sees something moving out the window. She makes a mental note to tell the house help next day to fix the light. She concentrates on the shadows and tries to make shapes out of them. Not a very successful process. She gives up and pours another glass of water and walks back into the living room settling on the couch.

Again her mind drifts. This time she lets it. She tries to see how her death would affect those close to her. She tries to plan her funeral and how to make sure her ghost doesn’t rest till her mother is rid of grief. She thinks of this strong woman who gave up a lot for her. And then she thinks of her one true love. How he cried night and day after she ran off to seek adventure. She sighs and blinks tears back. Her neck is stiff from stress. She kneads the muscles of which and closes her eyes against the flood of relief....
A scream tears through the still of the night. For the second time that night she wakes up with a start. This time she winces against the sharp pain that tears through the muscles of her neck. She looks around sleepily trying to make out the surroundings. She realizes that she fell asleep on the couch.she swears softly and gets up.she knocks the glass off the coffee table as she stops herself from tripping on the carpet as she stumbles toward the stairs.

She swears again and goes into the kitchen and looks around for a mop at the stair bottom. None is in sight. She walks into the dining room and looks for keys on the table.none are in sight.she swears, this time loudly. That meant they were in her sister's bedroom who was sound asleep.she sits on one of the four chairs at the dining table and stares at the screen that she had not switched off.another movie had begun.this time a comedy it seemed.she just stares, seeing nothing really, and gets lost in thought again...

"Am I ever going to be happy?"she wonders quitely.
She thinks again of so many other things but her mind seems to be clogging. She reaches for her journal/diary from the liquor cabinet where she left it the night before. And she starts writing. Her best therapy.

Dear Diary,
As usual, it is only in times of trouble that I resort to taking refuge in your pages. For this I am sorry. I know it should be collection of good and bad experiences both. To bring balance. But it's how I am and I can’t stop me. Believe me, I have tried. Today, as usual, I have had one of my spells. Only this one is pretty bad. Because there is one thing lacking. I am not scared anymore. At held me together was my fear for the consequences of my actions. But I am not scared anymore. I live and breathe rebellion now. I have tried to convince myself to go back but I cannot. I need a miracle. I have gone too far off base. I cannot return.
Anyway, I wake up with a sense of dread this morning. Like something was going to happen. And you know what that means, right? Then my day just took a trip downhill. I went from a fuming canon to a broken dam. I cried with no reason, uncontrollably. Sister dearest could not do anything, as usual. As if knowing, mom called. And the words she said to me...my! I melted into a puddle of slime.its too much to bear.she loves me. But I am seeing myself moving further and further away from her. Why? I don’t know. I have tried and tried but I cannot go back.
I do not know where to turn toil need saving. From myself. Because I am a ticking bomb soon to explode. As usual, I do not make much sense. The reader may not get what I am saying. But you know...deep down you know.... save me! Somebody save me!

She closes her journal/diary and sighs deeply in despair. She folds her arms on the table, lowers her head on them and rests her forehead and breaks into heart-wrenching sobs. For a whole half hour her stifled cries wrecks her body, causing convulsions until her head hurts, the muscles of her stomach are too tight and she can’t cry no more. She gets up slowly and walks into the kitchen. She flips on the light and rips off a piece of kitchen towel. She blows her nose and splashes water onto her now hot n puffy face. Her gaze strays to the knife on the knife rack. She sakes her head and fresh tears spring to her eyes. She rebukes the little voice playing with her mind.

"Take it...", it says.

A strung out "no!" comes out her mouth. She runs out the kitchen and throws herself on the floor and cries herself to sleep. The sun awakens her on her face....

GOODMORNING.