L.J. Higgins's Blog, page 18

The Institute by Kayla Howarth

I really enjoyed The Institute by Kayla Howarth. I was immediately drawn into Alliras world, where she is trying to hide in plain sight with her father and brother Shilah. Shilah is ‘Defective,’ and according to the government that means he is dangerous, and needs to be sent to the Institute to be cured. Only thing is, once people go to the Institute, they tend to never be seen again.

Along with the twist and turns this story provides, ensuring you aren’t able to put the book down. You can’t help but fall in love with the characters, whether you like them or not. And beware the cliff-hanger! It will have you wanting to run out and grab the second book of the series, Resistance!

You can grab a copy of The Institute HERE!

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Illusion of Happiness

Walking down the street, I smile as people pass. An illusion of happiness I have learnt to master over many years. No one understands what I survive every day. The eternal battle inside my mind. The doubts and questions that force themselves deep into my brain, so that I can’t let them go. No matter how much I want to.

I am strong on the surface though. Calm and collected around my peers. A patient and loving mother. A trusting and caring wife. But behind closed doors, away from their peering eyes, I am anything but. I am a bomb waiting to explode with the slightest amount of pressure. The questions file through my mind, the doubts fill up any gaps between them. A sidewards glance interpreted the wrong way, or the right way. I can never tell. But for me they are telling signs that they all know there is something wrong with me. They just don’t know how to say it.

It’s hard to describe how it feels. My mind begins to race faster and faster, until the thoughts blur into one. Confusing and overwhelming. The build-up has no escape, every part of my body is shaking and pulsing, with nowhere for the energy to go. I was happy only yesterday. I thought life couldn’t get any better. I walked with my head held high. Two healthy happy children. An amazing husband who is also a great dad. But they had tricked me. Tricked me into believing I deserved them.

But as I walk back to my car I smile. I smile so hard my face may split open. I say the right words, and laugh in all of the right places. All the while the surges of emotion sweep through my body I can’t contain or handle. I tell myself I am just feeling sad, I’m not quite myself today.

I want to yell at everyone I talk to, “Help me! Stop all of these emotions that are building up inside of me that I don’t know what to do with!”

But how can I expect people to help me when I don’t know how to help myself. That’s why I keep it quiet, keep it to myself as best I can. All I want to do is stop this pain, stop the emotions that are overwhelming my every sense.

When I am home I retreat to the sanctuary of my bedroom. I fall to the floor and pull my knees tight into my chest. I squeeze them tightly, attempting to release the extreme tension that is filling my entire being. I cry. Tears burst from my eyes, pouring over my cheeks. The cry turns into a deep sob, my body heaving as I try to control my breathing. Try to calm myself. I take deep breaths attempting to hold them in for a moment before releasing them. Attempting to compose myself.

As the tears subside a numbness falls over me, fills the places that were filled with intense emotions only moments before. I sit and stare into nothingness. My red swollen eyes glazed over with exhaustion. My husband is talking to me now, trying to make sure I am okay. I’m not sure when he got home or how long I’ve been here for. I don’t care.

I can still hear him talking as I rise from the floor and make my way to bed. I don’t answer him, instead I lay quietly on my pillow. I lay staring into the space in front of me. “Mum?” Her small voice pulls me from my numbness, and I peer into her beautiful blue eyes. “Cuddles?”

I pull her close to me breathing in every bit of her. She is my daughter, and it is my job to look after her. Instead I am laying in my bedroom crying. What sort of mother am I? I wipe the tears from my face and spread a smile back across it.

“You okay mummy?” Her innocence makes my smile more sincere.

“Yes, darling. Mummy is okay.” This time I can hold it together. I have to.

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Joshua’s Island by Patrick Hodges

Joshua is a thirteen year old school outcast. Eve is the newest cool kid, still getting use to her new found popularity. One chance decision by their teacher changes both of their lives forever.



I really didn’t anticipate on enjoying this book as much as I did. The age it was aimed at, and its storyline gave me some doubt, but I found myself eagerly turning page after page to find out what happened next. I loved being inside the minds of both Joshua and Eve, and seeing the world and each other through them. Seeing their strengths and weaknesses, and how friends and family can help you through the hard times.

When my son is in his early teens I will definitely be asking him to read this book. It reveals the damage that bullying does both mentally and physically to a victim, and how strong the temptation is to be accepted and popular no matter what the sacrifice.

Joshua’s Island is a must read for teens and parents. It shows how important it is to be a part of the solution, not the problem.

I give Joshua’s Island 5 stars! You can purchase it HERE on Amazon.

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Broken

I’ve thought about it so many times I’ve lost count. How I would do it. Where I would do it. But every time fear floods in, reminding me that I am too much of a coward to go through with it. Tonight will be different. Tonight I am ready, fearless. Tonight I have found the courage to rid the world of another ugly, unlovable loser. Tonight I will kill myself.

I wasn’t always this person. This ugly girl that nobody likes. Or maybe I was, but too pathetic to see it for myself. It hadn’t taken very long for my friends to work it out, to spread the vicious lies and rumours that would ruin my life forever. When they first started I told myself I would be okay. If I ignored them they would soon get tired of following me around taunting me, prank calling my phone and leaving me hate filled messages on my Facebook page. Well, that’s what my parents had told me. They lied. Slowly I worked out that they were never going to stop, that maybe they were right. I also worked out how to keep the way it makes me feel locked up inside. That way no one else has to deal with the worthless person I have become. That way I won’t be a burden on the people I love and that have to love me.

I suppose my parents will be sad when I’m gone. But I also know they will feel a sense of relief when they don’t have to deal with their weird daughter that no one likes anymore. The one who wears long sleeves to cover up the ugly scars from the wounds she has inflicted upon herself. They have never mentioned noticing them, maybe they hadn’t. But the way they look at me shows they are scared of me, unsure what is wrong with me. I’m sure when I was born they had hoped they’d been blessed with the smart kid, the cool kid. The kid everyone wanted to be like and friends with. Instead they received me, and I could feel their disappointment every time I walked in the room.

Ding! My laptop chimes and I open it to find one of my regular messages.

“Do us a favour and kill yourself you ugly lesbian.”

I laugh morbidly to myself, “okay.”

I’m not a lesbian. I don’t know why but I thought I would clear that up. Not that I don’t like lesbians I’m sure they are very nice, but I have never done the things those girls accuse me of. Most of which are too graphic to even relay. But they are right about two things. I am ugly. And I will be doing the world a favour by killing myself.

I scoop up the pills placed in a neat circle in front of my laptop on the desk. A concoction of tablets I found in my parents bathroom medicine cabinet while they were at work. I’m pretty sure most of them are sleeping tablets. I’m not sure about the rest. I do know however, if I take enough I will drift off to sleep never to wake again. At least that way when my parents find me I’ll look peaceful. They will realise I’ve done them a favour, and have ended the misery that was my life. Walking towards my bed I pick up the small bottle of vodka I’d stolen from my dad’s collection of alcohol to help wash the handful of pills down.

Ding! Another message chimes on Facebook and upon opening the message I find a video of two girls doing one of the things they had accused me of. I shake my head and close down the window. That isn’t the last image I want in my mind when I die. I sit in my chair and google ‘Beach Scene’ picking one with bright blue skies, crystal clear water and bright white sand. Leaning back in my chair I shuffle the pills into my other hand and back again. A deep breath helps push away the nagging doubts that scream in the back of my mind. Trying to convince me to persevere with this wretched life I have been given. I won’t let them win again. I can’t do this one more day. I empty my palm full of pills onto my tongue. They rattle against my teeth as I take a deep swig from the vodka bottle. I force it down with a painful gulp and my stomach heaves, bile rises in my throat tightening it. I clamp my hand over my lips and swallow it back down. Now all I have to do is wait.

I change into my favourite dark blue dress that I’ve laid out on my bed. It reminds me of the last time I had felt pretty. Before I realised my many flaws. Before the people around me began noticing them too. Before I cut myself for the first time because I couldn’t handle the truth. That I wasn’t special or likeable. I was a weird, ugly girl who was destined to be tortured and tormented her entire life. I am too strange, too different. I run my fingers along the raised lines of skin that cover the underside of my arms. I don’t care about my scars now, they remind me of how much pain I have endured on my own and why I have made this decision. When they find me my parents will finally see the pain I’ve been in. They will understand why I’ve done this.

My head feels light so I decide to lay on my bed. My only sanctuary in this cruel world. My stomach lurches, and although I heave and cough, I manage to keep the pills down. I stare again at the beach setting on my laptop until it begins to blur. The room spins slowly around me. I thought I would have more time. I didn’t realise the pills would work so fast, or make my head and stomach feel so terrible. My head sinks lazily into the pillow and I close my eyes taking a deep breath to calm myself. It is too late to change my mind. I have finally done it.

Thump! Thump! Dull knocks sound in my fuzzy ears and I force open my heavy eyes. Have I been asleep for hours? Or have only minutes passed?

A muffled voice calls through the door and I try to voice that I am okay, that I don’t want to be disturbed. My lips are moving but no sound makes its way out. There’s a large bang followed by a crash as my father busts through the door. I can’t make out his features, but I instinctively know it is him. He approaches me and begins shaking me vigorously. I want to beg him to stop. The motion makes my head throb and my vision swirl around the room. My eyes lose focus and roll back into my head.

A shrill scream sounds as my mum arrives and runs to my side sobbing loudly, calling my name. I am trying to tell her not to worry, that everything will be okay now. Again nothing audible comes out. The edges of my vision have blurred and bright lights appear in the darkness that is taking me over. I can’t hold my eyes open any longer. The world fades to black.

 

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Mirror, Mirror

STELLA

In the sanctuary of my bedroom I stare up at the ceiling from my soft pillow. The smell of beef casserole wafts through my doorway and I jump up, marching over to slam the door. I don’t know why she cooks things like that? Things she knows I love to eat. Did she want me to put on even more weight? I slump to my floor leaning against my bed, holding my singlet over my nose until I feel it is safe to let it fall away. The meaty smell is still lingering in my nostrils, and my stomach growls. I wish it wouldn’t do that. Wish it wouldn’t make out it is hungry when it isn’t.

I wish I could take my mum to school with me for just one day. Let her see the way other people look at me. The way they whisper to each other when I walk past. That is if I am lucky. Others feel the need to yell out at me. Shouting about how disgusting I look, how strange I am. Do they not realize there is nothing they can say I haven’t already told myself? They don’t need to point out the flaws in my body I already see. My chunky thighs, my stomach that sticks out in everything I wear. The list is endless, and I can’t blame them for not wanting to be my friend, but wish they weren’t so cruel about it. No matter how hard I tried to ignore them, I couldn’t.

My thoughts find their way back to food as they always do. Just the idea of eating mums casserole sends my stomach into a frenzy. Twisting and churning, making me feel ill. I can already feel the extra kilos climbing under my skin. I wipe at my arms and wriggle them away. I would have to tell her I am sick again. Tell her I can’t stomach anything today. My belly growls once again. ARGH! I drop to the floor leaning up against my beds frame. She will make me eat. I know she will. Despite how many times I tell her I am overweight, she assures me I am beautiful and need to eat. But I own a mirror, although I avoid it at all costs. And every time I grow the courage to glimpse at myself, all of those flaws stare straight back at me. Whoever invented mirrors was cruel!

“Dinners ready!” Mum’s voice sings from the kitchen.

I rise from the floor and open the door, holding my breath as best I can while calling back. “I’m not feeling well. I think I will just rest.”

I quickly close the door again, annoyed the smell has invaded my room once more, and that my stomach is twisting itself in knots. Laying back on my bed I hear footsteps approaching. The door swings open, the smell wafting in even stronger, forcing me to pull my singlet up over my nose once again.

“Honey you need to eat. Especially if you are sick. Just try a little bit please.” I can’t look her in the eyes. The way they plead, pulls at my heartstrings.

“I said I’m not hungry,” frustration pouring into my words.

“You need to eat sweetie.”

“No! Just leave me alone!” I roll over towards my wall, angry she can’t just listen to what I want.

She sits down next to me, stroking my hair. “I have only given you a little bit I promise. Just come and try it. That’s all I am asking.”

I roll over, and she kisses me on the forehead. Admitting defeat I climb out of bed, and mum grabs me by the shoulders guiding me towards my greatest enemy. The mirror.

 

STELLAS MUM

I can feel her resistance as I guide her towards her tall mirror. I know she hates what she sees, but each time I do this I pray that she will finally see what I see. A beautiful young lady who needs help. Who needs to learn to see herself the way everyone else sees her. Her yellow tinged skin hugs at her bones, her face gaunt and drawn in around the cheek bones, her eyes dark and hollow. Tear form in my eyes. I know if she sees me upset it will only anger her. She is angry a lot these days. And I’m growing desperate to get through to her, to help her. But she won’t let me in.

“Honey, you are wasting away. You need to eat to be healthy again. Just a little bit I promise.”

I know she can see it. See herself slowly dying in front of her family. And I can’t understand why she doesn’t care. Why she won’t just talk to me.

STELLA

I see mum eyes water up in the reflection of the mirror, and look at myself to avoid watching them escape over her cheeks. I’m not sure why, but her over emotional state angers me. Why is she crying? She isn’t the one everybody stares and laughs at. I know she is scared, worried her little girl is killing herself. And I wish I could do what she wants. I wish I could just be like a normal sixteen year old and sit with her family for dinner. Sit with friends at lunch enjoying a sandwich. Bile rises in my throat at the thought. But no matter how hard I try I can’t be normal. Every time I look at myself I can still see the imperfections. Still see the roundness in my thighs, the way my stomach balloons out when I turn to the side. Is it really so bad to want to be beautiful? To be like the other girls at school. Just a little bit more weight to lose and those areas will thin out, flatten. Then I would be happy with how I look.

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In Their Shoes – Mirror, Mirror

STELLA

In the sanctuary of my bedroom I stare up at the ceiling from my soft pillow. The smell of beef casserole wafts through my doorway and I jump up, marching over to slam the door. I don’t know why she cooks things like that? Things she knows I love to eat. Did she want me to put on even more weight? I slump to my floor leaning against my bed, holding my singlet over my nose until I feel it is safe to let it fall away. The meaty smell is still lingering in my nostrils, and my stomach growls. I wish it wouldn’t do that. Wish it wouldn’t make out it is hungry when it isn’t.

I wish I could take my mum to school with me for just one day. Let her see the way other people look at me. The way they whisper to each other when I walk past. That is if I am lucky. Others feel the need to yell out at me. Shouting about how disgusting I look, how strange I am. Do they not realize there is nothing they can say I haven’t already told myself? They don’t need to point out the flaws in my body I already see. My chunky thighs, my stomach that sticks out in everything I wear. The list is endless, and I can’t blame them for not wanting to be my friend, but wish they weren’t so cruel about it. No matter how hard I tried to ignore them, I couldn’t.

My thoughts find their way back to food as they always do. Just the idea of eating mums casserole sends my stomach into a frenzy. Twisting and churning, making me feel ill. I can already feel the extra kilos climbing under my skin. I wipe at my arms and wriggle them away. I would have to tell her I am sick again. Tell her I can’t stomach anything today. My belly growls once again. ARGH! I drop to the floor leaning up against my beds frame. She will make me eat. I know she will. Despite how many times I tell her I am overweight, she assures me I am beautiful and need to eat. But I own a mirror, although I avoid it at all costs. And every time I grow the courage to glimpse at myself, all of those flaws stare straight back at me. Whoever invented mirrors was cruel!

“Dinners ready!” Mum’s voice sings from the kitchen.

I rise from the floor and open the door, holding my breath as best I can while calling back. “I’m not feeling well. I think I will just rest.”

I quickly close the door again, annoyed the smell has invaded my room once more, and that my stomach is twisting itself in knots. Laying back on my bed I hear footsteps approaching. The door swings open, the smell wafting in even stronger, forcing me to pull my singlet up over my nose once again.

“Honey you need to eat. Especially if you are sick. Just try a little bit please.” I can’t look her in the eyes. The way they plead, pulls at my heartstrings.

“I said I’m not hungry,” frustration pouring into my words.

“You need to eat sweetie.”

“No! Just leave me alone!” I roll over towards my wall, angry she can’t just listen to what I want.

She sits down next to me, stroking my hair. “I have only given you a little bit I promise. Just come and try it. That’s all I am asking.”

I roll over, and she kisses me on the forehead. Admitting defeat I climb out of bed, and mum grabs me by the shoulders guiding me towards my greatest enemy. The mirror.

 

STELLAS MUM

I can feel her resistance as I guide her towards her tall mirror. I know she hates what she sees, but each time I do this I pray that she will finally see what I see. A beautiful young lady who needs help. Who needs to learn to see herself the way everyone else sees her. Her yellow tinged skin hugs at her bones, her face gaunt and drawn in around the cheek bones, her eyes dark and hollow. Tear form in my eyes. I know if she sees me upset it will only anger her. She is angry a lot these days. And I’m growing desperate to get through to her, to help her. But she won’t let me in.

“Honey, you are wasting away. You need to eat to be healthy again. Just a little bit I promise.”

I know she can see it. See herself slowly dying in front of her family. And I can’t understand why she doesn’t care. Why she won’t just talk to me.

STELLA

I see mum eyes water up in the reflection of the mirror, and look at myself to avoid watching them escape over her cheeks. I’m not sure why, but her over emotional state angers me. Why is she crying? She isn’t the one everybody stares and laughs at. I know she is scared, worried her little girl is killing herself. And I wish I could do what she wants. I wish I could just be like a normal sixteen year old and sit with her family for dinner. Sit with friends at lunch enjoying a sandwich. Bile rises in my throat at the thought. But no matter how hard I try I can’t be normal. Every time I look at myself I can still see the imperfections. Still see the roundness in my thighs, the way my stomach balloons out when I turn to the side. Is it really so bad to want to be beautiful? To be like the other girls at school. Just a little bit more weight to lose and those areas will thin out, flatten. Then I would be happy with how I look.

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An anxious wait

Leaning back in my seat, my outstretched arms grip onto the steering wheel. My heartbeat echoes in my ears quickening my breath. The twist in my stomach, and the racing thoughts in my brain push me to continue down the road before parking along the gutter. As I pull up, a large black dog barks madly at me from behind a waist height chain link fence. If it wasn’t for the heavy restraint binding him to one of the houses stumps I am sure he would delight in tearing me to pieces. Despite the horrendous noise the animal is making, no one comes outside to inspect the cause of its outburst. The front yard appears as though it was recently mowed, but the backyard is a mass of weeds and long stalks of grass. Movement through the louvered window forces me to avert my eyes. I take off my seatbelt and open the car door.

Once outside of its safety I press my button and here the clunk as the car locks. I walk cautiously down the driveway that follows the fence of the rabid dog’s house towards another dilapidated dwelling. I hate being here. Hate being in this neighbourhood altogether. The dog continues its ruckus following me until its bark becomes a choking sound mixed with bits of coughed up howling. As I stride further out of its view, where the overgrown backyard can hide me, it falls silent.

The house I am approaching is surrounded in grass just as long as its neighbours, its windows screens are torn and hanging from what is left of their seals. Yellowed curtains attempted to hide the activity within. As I approach the screen door a sharp smell wafts up my nose and I do my best not to sneeze or cough. I am already in a neighbourhood I don’t belong in, I don’t want to offend Snake or his friends. Snake is the man I am here to visit. I’m not sure if it is his home, or if he just uses it to conduct his business. But he is always reliable and friendly.

My attempt at a knock rattles the screen door almost off its hinges. A weedy young man, with slumped shoulders, and a grey coloured beanie, arrives at the screen. He doesn’t say a word. He simply lifts his eyebrows, his cigarette bobbing up and down in his thin lips.

“Snake… I’m here to see Snake,” my voice trembles.

He nods and disappears into the house. A moment passes and no one else has come to the door. I glance around hoping no one else arrives while I am here. It wouldn’t be any one I know. No one I know would be caught dead in a place like this. But all the same, a panicked tingle pulses through my body keeping me alert. In a burst of commotion the dog down the driveway begins barking again, alarming me that someone else is coming. What if Snake isn’t here? What if these people are waiting for someone, someone who might hurt me? Nobody would ever think to look for me here if I went missing.

A figure appears down the end of the driveway. My body is tearing itself apart inside, fighting with itself to decide if it should run or stay. Despite the overwhelming need to run my body stays rigid on the spot. As he approaches I notice his long beared and his naked head. It is Snake. A strange sense of relief falls over me at the sight of him. He will have what I need and everything will feel better.

“Wendy,” he smiles.

It always feels like a genuine smile, sometimes I have to remind myself who he is. What he does.

“Do you have them?”

“Do you have the cash?” He is still smiling, but it doesn’t hide the sinister look deep in his eyes.

I dig in my pocket and pull out two notes. He nods, takes the money from my hand and disappears inside. He always does it this way. Leaves me outside hoping he actually comes back with the goods. He doesn’t have to. He knows if he didn’t come back I would leave quietly without saying a word. But every time without fail he returns with what I need.

“Here you are,” he hands me a small packet of tablets.

I take a deep breath in, and breathe out heavily. I hadn’t realised I’d been holding my breath until now.

“Thank you. Have a nice day.”

I always say that. I’m not sure why? Maybe it made it feel more like a normal transaction?

“See you next week Wendy,” he watched as I walked back up the driveway towards my car.

He always did this, making sure one of his regular clients made it to the safety of her vehicle. As I walk past the low chain link fence the large black dog begins barking once again. I quicken my pace, unlock my car, and climb in. I know I should wait before I take one, but the whole ordeal has me on edge. Just one is all it will take to calm me. Mellow me out so that I can drive safely and make it through the afternoon.

I pull a little yellow bar out of the small plastic bag and swallow it down with a mouthful of lemonade. The lemonade is hot from sitting in the car, but it does its job and a wave of relief washes over me. The dog is still barking, threatening to interrupt my approaching relaxation, so I decide to leave. I pull over at a small park a few blocks away and lean back in my chair. Looking at the clock I still have twenty minutes. That is plenty of time for my tablet to kick in.

Soon my heart rate is dropping to a dull thud, my breathing slows and deepens, and a small smile crawls across my lips. I open my eyes and I am melting, blending into the fabric of my car seat. For the first time today I take in the world around me, the bright blue sky holding up the brilliant sun that is warming my thighs. After enjoying the calm for a moment I take off once again.

 

The traffic is horrendous. Thank goodness I took my tablet when I did. How these people do this every day I don’t know? I assume most people were on some type of medication to make it through the day. Medication to calm themselves, for giving them a boost of energy, for making them thinner, for bulking them up. I wondered how many of these people took something to make their lives easier, to make themselves a better person.

As I pull into the pickup zone I see their smiling faces. Their eyes lighting up when they see I am here to pick them up. That look makes me proud to be their mother. A twinge of guilt finds its way into my mind but the tablet is in full effect now and melts the worry away.

When I pull in Amber yanks open the door with a wide grin, “Hey mum!”

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In Their Shoes – An anxious wait

Leaning back in my seat, my outstretched arms grip onto the steering wheel. My heartbeat echoes in my ears quickening my breath. The twist in my stomach, and the racing thoughts in my brain push me to continue down the road before parking along the gutter. As I pull up, a large black dog barks madly at me from behind a waist height chain link fence. If it wasn’t for the heavy restraint binding him to one of the houses stumps I am sure he would delight in tearing me to pieces. Despite the horrendous noise the animal is making, no one comes outside to inspect the cause of its outburst. The front yard appears as though it was recently mowed, but the backyard is a mass of weeds and long stalks of grass. Movement through the louvered window forces me to avert my eyes. I take off my seatbelt and open the car door.

Once outside of its safety I press my button and here the clunk as the car locks. I walk cautiously down the driveway that follows the fence of the rabid dog’s house towards another dilapidated dwelling. I hate being here. Hate being in this neighbourhood altogether. The dog continues its ruckus following me until its bark becomes a choking sound mixed with bits of coughed up howling. As I stride further out of its view, where the overgrown backyard can hide me, it falls silent.

The house I am approaching is surrounded in grass just as long as its neighbours, its windows screens are torn and hanging from what is left of their seals. Yellowed curtains attempted to hide the activity within. As I approach the screen door a sharp smell wafts up my nose and I do my best not to sneeze or cough. I am already in a neighbourhood I don’t belong in, I don’t want to offend Snake or his friends. Snake is the man I am here to visit. I’m not sure if it is his home, or if he just uses it to conduct his business. But he is always reliable and friendly.

My attempt at a knock rattles the screen door almost off its hinges. A weedy young man, with slumped shoulders, and a grey coloured beanie, arrives at the screen. He doesn’t say a word. He simply lifts his eyebrows, his cigarette bobbing up and down in his thin lips.

“Snake… I’m here to see Snake,” my voice trembles.

He nods and disappears into the house. A moment passes and no one else has come to the door. I glance around hoping no one else arrives while I am here. It wouldn’t be any one I know. No one I know would be caught dead in a place like this. But all the same, a panicked tingle pulses through my body keeping me alert. In a burst of commotion the dog down the driveway begins barking again, alarming me that someone else is coming. What if Snake isn’t here? What if these people are waiting for someone, someone who might hurt me? Nobody would ever think to look for me here if I went missing.

A figure appears down the end of the driveway. My body is tearing itself apart inside, fighting with itself to decide if it should run or stay. Despite the overwhelming need to run my body stays rigid on the spot. As he approaches I notice his long beared and his naked head. It is Snake. A strange sense of relief falls over me at the sight of him. He will have what I need and everything will feel better.

“Wendy,” he smiles.

It always feels like a genuine smile, sometimes I have to remind myself who he is. What he does.

“Do you have them?”

“Do you have the cash?” He is still smiling, but it doesn’t hide the sinister look deep in his eyes.

I dig in my pocket and pull out two notes. He nods, takes the money from my hand and disappears inside. He always does it this way. Leaves me outside hoping he actually comes back with the goods. He doesn’t have to. He knows if he didn’t come back I would leave quietly without saying a word. But every time without fail he returns with what I need.

“Here you are,” he hands me a small packet of tablets.

I take a deep breath in, and breathe out heavily. I hadn’t realised I’d been holding my breath until now.

“Thank you. Have a nice day.”

I always say that. I’m not sure why? Maybe it made it feel more like a normal transaction?

“See you next week Wendy,” he watched as I walked back up the driveway towards my car.

He always did this, making sure one of his regular clients made it to the safety of her vehicle. As I walk past the low chain link fence the large black dog begins barking once again. I quicken my pace, unlock my car, and climb in. I know I should wait before I take one, but the whole ordeal has me on edge. Just one is all it will take to calm me. Mellow me out so that I can drive safely and make it through the afternoon.

I pull a little yellow bar out of the small plastic bag and swallow it down with a mouthful of lemonade. The lemonade is hot from sitting in the car, but it does its job and a wave of relief washes over me. The dog is still barking, threatening to interrupt my approaching relaxation, so I decide to leave. I pull over at a small park a few blocks away and lean back in my chair. Looking at the clock I still have twenty minutes. That is plenty of time for my tablet to kick in.

Soon my heart rate is dropping to a dull thud, my breathing slows and deepens, and a small smile crawls across my lips. I open my eyes and I am melting, blending into the fabric of my car seat. For the first time today I take in the world around me, the bright blue sky holding up the brilliant sun that is warming my thighs. After enjoying the calm for a moment I take off once again.

 

The traffic is horrendous. Thank goodness I took my tablet when I did. How these people do this every day I don’t know? I assume most people were on some type of medication to make it through the day. Medication to calm themselves, for giving them a boost of energy, for making them thinner, for bulking them up. I wondered how many of these people took something to make their lives easier, to make themselves a better person.

As I pull into the pickup zone I see their smiling faces. Their eyes lighting up when they see I am here to pick them up. That look makes me proud to be their mother. A twinge of guilt finds its way into my mind but the tablet is in full effect now and melts the worry away.

When I pull in Amber yanks open the door with a wide grin, “Hey mum!”

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In Their Shoes – Broken

I’ve thought about it so many times I’ve lost count. How I would do it. Where I would do it. But every time fear floods in, reminding me that I am too much of a coward to go through with it. Tonight will be different. Tonight I am ready, fearless. Tonight I have found the courage to rid the world of another ugly, unlovable loser. Tonight I will kill myself.

I wasn’t always this person. This ugly girl that nobody likes. Or maybe I was, but too pathetic to see it for myself. It hadn’t taken very long for my friends to work it out, to spread the vicious lies and rumours that would ruin my life forever. When they first started I told myself I would be okay. If I ignored them they would soon get tired of following me around taunting me, prank calling my phone and leaving me hate filled messages on my Facebook page. Well, that’s what my parents had told me. They lied. Slowly I worked out that they were never going to stop, that maybe they were right. I also worked out how to keep the way it makes me feel locked up deep inside me. That way no one else has to deal with the worthless person I have become. That way I won’t be a burden on the people I love and that have to love me.

I suppose my parents will be sad when I’m gone. But I also know they will feel a sense of relief when they don’t have to deal with their weird daughter that no one likes anymore. The one who wears long sleeves to cover up the ugly scars from the wounds she has inflicted upon herself. They have never mentioned noticing them, maybe they haven’t. But the way they look at me shows they are scared of me, unsure what is wrong with me. I’m sure when I was born they had hoped they’d been blessed with the smart kid, the cool kid. The kid everyone wanted to be like and friends with. Instead they received me, and I could feel their disappointment every time I walked in the room.

Ding! My laptop chimes and I open it to find one of my regular messages.

“Do us a favour and kill yourself you ugly lesbian.”

I laugh morbidly to myself.

“Okay.”

I’m not a lesbian. I don’t know why but I thought I would clear that up. Not that I don’t like lesbians I’m sure they are very nice, but I have never done the things those girls accuse me of. Most of which are too graphic to relay. But they are right about two things. I am ugly. And I will be doing the world a favour by killing myself.

I scoop up the pills placed in a neat circle in front of my laptop on the desk. A concoction of tablets I found in my parents bathroom medicine cabinet while they were at work. I’m pretty sure most of them are sleeping tablets. I’m not sure about the rest. I do know however, if I take enough, I will drift off to sleep never to wake again. At least that way when my parents find me I’ll look peaceful. They will realise I’ve done them a favour, and have ended the misery that was my life. Walking towards my bed I pick up the small bottle of vodka I’d stolen from my dad’s collection of alcohol to help wash the handful of pills down.

Ding! Another message chimes on Facebook and upon opening the message I find a video of two girls doing one of the things they had accused me of. I shake my head and close down the window. That isn’t the last image I want in my mind when I die. I sit in my chair and google ‘Beach Scene’ picking one with bright blue skies, crystal clear water and bright white sand. Leaning back in my chair I shuffle the pills into my other hand and back again. A deep breath helps push away the nagging doubts that scream in the back of my mind. Trying to convince me to persevere with this wretched life I have been given. I won’t let them win again. I can’t do this one more day. I empty my palm full of pills onto my tongue. They rattle against my teeth as I take a deep swig from the vodka bottle. I force it down with a painful gulp and my stomach heaves, bile rises in my throat tightening it. I clamp my hand over my lips and swallow it back down. Now all I have to do is wait.

I change into my favourite dark blue dress that I’ve laid out on my bed. It reminds me of the last time I had felt pretty. Before I realised my many flaws. Before the people around me began noticing them too. Before I cut myself for the first time because I couldn’t handle the truth. That I wasn’t special or likeable. I was a weird, ugly girl who was destined to be tortured and tormented her entire life. I am too strange, too different. I run my fingers along the raised lines that cover the underside of my arms. I don’t care about my scars now, they remind me of how much pain I have endured on my own and why I have made this decision. When they find me my parents will finally see the pain I’ve been in. They will understand why I’ve done this.

My head feels light so I decide to lay on my bed. My only sanctuary in this cruel world. My stomach lurches, and although I heave and cough, I manage to keep the pills down. I stare again at the beach setting on my laptop until it begins to blur. The room spins slowly around me. I thought I would have more time. I didn’t realise the pills would work so fast, or make my head and stomach feel so terrible. My head sinks lazily into the pillow and I close my eyes taking a deep breath to calm myself. It is too late to change my mind. I have finally done it.

Thump! Thump! Dull knocks sound in my fuzzy ears and I force open my heavy eyes. Have I been asleep for hours? Or have only minutes passed?

A muffled voice calls through the door and I try to voice that I am okay, that I don’t want to be disturbed. My lips are moving but no sound makes its way out. There’s a large bang followed by a crash as my father busts through the door. I can’t make out his features, but I instinctively know it is him. He approaches me and begins shaking me vigorously. I want to beg him to stop. The motion makes my head throb and my vision swirl around the room. My eyes lose focus and roll back into my head.

A shrill scream sounds as my mum arrives and runs to my side sobbing loudly, calling my name. I am trying to tell her not to worry, that everything will be okay now. Again nothing audible comes out. The edges of my vision have blurred and bright lights appear in the darkness that has fallen over me. I can’t hold my eyes open any longer. The world fades to black.

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I’m in Love!

I have a new love in my life… my new writing/craft studio that my husband created especially for me! I’m so excited I couldn’t help but share it with you all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you have a favourite place to create? If so I would love to hear about it.

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