Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Close To The Edge

Hello, my faithful readers!

I'm having a break from Tabula Rasa for a while so everyone can catch up on what's going on and so on.

CTTE will probably be short, maybe 5 chapters. But I won't make this one too long.

This is my first real attempt at this kind of story so this probably won't be really scary or a masterpiece of some sort.

Note from the author:

This story will contain material that some people might find disturbing. I also won't recommend reading this if you can't stand depressive issues, suicide-themes or violence/blood/gore or are too young to read this stuff (under 15 years old).

So don't complain to me if you get nightmares or something. I've warned you.

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Close To The Edge

Chapter 1: First steps

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Scream.

That’s what I remember the best.

Bruises and cuts faded, memories never did.

Did I mention the scream?

The one that came from the mirror on my wall one night?

It’s a pretty old mirror. Wooden frames. Dusty, until mom dug it from the attic because I “needed something nice” in my “own” room.

Yeah right. I don’t call it my own since I never get even a minute of peace and quiet.

“How was your day honey?”

“Are you alright?”

“Why don’t you bring some of your friends over sometime?”

It might be a good point to tell you that I don’t have friends. Haven’t had any in years.

But let’s get back to the mirror. The wooden framed, old mirror.

So I had to put it in my room to get my mother off my back. I didn’t really care about the whole thing. I don’t spend half an hour in front of the mirror (another thing my mom got worried about since it wasn’t “normal”).

And there it was for a few months. The few months the house was quiet.

The few months before I was dragged to a psychologist every week.

Hey, maybe I need help but no one was interested until recently. I can keep most of the things to myself. I just smiled and played that I was a part of the whole happy-family-thing.

Though I never really was.

I was the freaky, quiet kid in the sunny, lovely family that had a white picket fence and their own house (white with blue details, just how my mom liked it).

I drew the line to the point where my “own” room would’ve become a clone of a picture in some decoration magazine. Brown walls, neutral carpet and red curtains that would’ve made a “lovely detail” to my non-personal room.

So I went and painted the walls dark blue. My mom wouldn’t believe what had gotten to her little boy.

When she looked at the world she saw nothing wrong with it: birds were singing, flowers blooming and all happiness, except for her son who kept staring at his feet, didn’t talk much and managed to bring sadness to the perfect, sunny world she lived in with her husband and other son.

And while this happy little family was spending their eternal summer days, I was in the world outside where people were beat up, raped, killed, drugged and lost in wars no matter how much you tried to deny it.

Narrow-minded people, my family.

So my family lived in the bubble while I was out of the bubble.

Sorry, got a little off-track there. But let’s return to my mirror and therapy sessions.

Oh why was I going to therapy sessions?

Good question.

It took my parents years to notice anything. In the bubble, out the bubble and all.

My mom thought that I had fallen down some stairs when I got back home one day with broken glasses.

My dad told me to go wash my hands when I appeared to the dinner table with something red leaking from inside the sleeve of my blouse.

And Alex didn’t even look twice when I got back from school one day with blood on my face and bruises everywhere, not to mention my weird walking.

In other words, my family was too wrapped up in its own happiness to notice anything else.

But their bubble was burst when someone called from the hospital about their son who was in the hospital after some people had found him on the floor of the local school’s restroom with open wrists and in the middle of a pool of blood.

And that wasn’t even the first time I tried to find some sort of relief.

Though I didn’t have to go to a hospital because of those.

But back to the mirror.

It was on the night after I got home from the hospital.

I woke up in the middle of the night. It was around midnight and I couldn’t sleep so I turned on the light and tried to move around a little.

It was alright until I walked past the mirror and heard a scream.

So I looked at the mirror and froze.

Not because I looked like crap after the uneatable hospital food and being without a proper shower for God knows how long. No.

It was because I was looking to what seemed like a black hole with a person in it.

I tried to get a closer look. Suddenly I was staring at my own eyes.

And then my closet flew open and the person from the mirror walked out.

It was a little girl, at least 8 years old, maybe younger: black hair, pretty baby-blue eyes and pale skin. Short and walking like she was having a huge weight on her back.

No kidding. She was almost doubled over and held her hands on her stomach like she was in pain or something. She was staring at me from under her black locks. I thought that her eyes would roll around in her head if she looked up even a bit more. Her eyes had dark circles around them, like she hadn’t slept in years. She didn’t blink.

“Hi.” That was merely a whisper.

“Erm, hi.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Chris.”

“Oh.” She said that like she wasn’t even vaguely interested. “Where is this?”

I looked around. Wasn’t that a bit obvious? “You’re in my room.”

She started slowly walking and turning her head around to the sides but never looked up.

“But who are you?” She stared at her feet.

“…Jadie.”

“Okay, Jadie, what are you doing in my room?”

She was quiet for a while.

“…I don’t know.”

“Why are you walking like that?”

No answer.

“Why are you holding your stomach like that?”

She looked at me. “Because my insides will fall out if I don’t.”

Okay, there I was, in the middle of the night, talking to a little girl who had some serious issues.

No, wait a sec. I probably wasn’t any better since I was the one with a bandaged wrist.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Oh this?” I lifter my hand and she nodded. A small movement but at least it was something. “Let’s just say that I tried something and I screwed up.”

“Did you try to kill yourself?”

“What?”

“Did you try to kill yourself? That’s the only thing that you can screw up and get a bandaged wrist.” She looked curious. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.

“Why are you afraid that your insides will fall out?”

“Mommy said they will.”

“Your mom? Why would she say something like that?”

“Dad’s insides fell out.”

Alright, rewind and freeze, what did she say?

She nodded. “Dad’s insides were all over the floor. And there was blood too, lots and lots of blood. And when dad was taken somewhere Hope cut the cat.” She was quiet for a second. ”Mr. Meow’s insides came out too.”

“Who’s Hope?”

“Hope laughed at that. She thought it was funny.”

“Jadie, who’s Hope?”

“And then Hope was taken somewhere. She never came back.” She paused. “Dad didn’t come back either.”

“Who is Hope?”

Then she looked at me. “Hope is my sister.”

“And where’s your mom?”

“In her room. She never comes out. She sleeps and when she wakes up she-” She closed her mouth as if she had just said a bad word.

“What does she do Jadie?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Before I could ask why she opened her mouth again. “Why did you try to kill yourself?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“That’s what Jane said.”

“Who’s Jane? Your sister?”

Jadie nodded again. “She’s in the moon now.” Then she started chanting. “Jane’s in the moon, Jane’s in the moon, now she’ll never be in a bad mood…”

“What happened to her?”

She stopped the chanting. “She said that she’s going to the moon. And the she was lying on the floor. There was blood around her. She was smiling. She wanted me to come with her. She wanted me to see the people in the moon. And then dad came in and dragged me out. And then Jane was gone too.”

“So Jane died before your dad did?” Yet another nod.

“Now it’s just me and mommy. Why did you try to kill yourself? Did you wanna go to the moon too?”

“No, my problem was a bit different.”

“How?” Her eyes had gone wide.

“I won’t tell you that.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“You’re too young for that.”

“Am not!”

“Yes you are! Now go back to where-ever you came from and let me sleep!”

She stared at the floor for a minute. Then she slowly walked back to the closet and opened it.

“See you in the morning.” She climbed in, sat down and shut the door.

I didn’t sleep even an eyeful.

I even checked my closet a few times.

She was there. Quiet, eyes closed, arms wrapped around her knees.

But she was still there.

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