paranoia [slow-ish updates]

7 days

Never had I been so thankful for the weekend; I was free from having to endure harsh glares and awkward encounters with Gem after abandoning her for no apparent reason at the auditorium yesterday. Plus, it gave me two whole days to work on this thought of mine- which, yes, was still lingering at the back of my mind (I'd managed to leave it there without having to concentrate as much, but I wanted to banish it completely).

However, I'd already been interrupted about a dozen times while in the middle of this process by the muffled chirping of my phone; no doubt missed calls and texts from Gem, wanting to know 'what the HELL was yesterday all about?!' (I admit, I did read one of the texts, but, simultaneously being too much of a coward and lacking a plausible excuse, I'd shut the phone in my wardrobe).

Deciding pacing the room was ineffective, I settled back on my rumpled bed sheets, massaging my temples. It was somehow more irritating than yesterday; it had grown not so much that it was interfering with daily functions, but just enough for it to be a little more noticeable. Sort of like when you'd try and forget about bad thoughts, and it worked for most of the day, but as soon as your head hit the pillow, there was nothing to distract yourself with, and so you had no choice but to acknowledge them.

I'd distract myself with things I needed to do and would forget about it for a while, but as soon as my mind was vacant, the only option would be to acknowledge the thought that somehow, something bad was going to happen.

Rubbing a hand over the nape of my neck, I scoffed to myself. How much did I actually know about this apparent 'bad thing'? Hell, the only thing I was aware of was that it was going to happen soon, and even then that revelation had only occurred at breakfast this morning, when I'd clinked my knife and fork against the china more aggressively as I realised that this thought wasn't going away anytime soon. Mind you, I'd already become aware of that last night, when I'd laid awake in my bed, mulling over the thought for many hours until I'd pulled a book from my shelf and read until my eyes finally drooped in the early hours of the morning. But, other than that, I knew diddlysquat. It was downright stupid for me to be worrying over something as small as this. Sure, I didn't have a sound explanation as to why the thought had even occurred to me in the first place. But I decided to brush it off as something I might've forgotten to do, and would probably face the consequences later. But I'd survive it, surely?

"Kerrie, dinner's ready!" my mother's voice travelled surprisingly loudly through my closed door, and took me by surprise.

Yelling back a reply, I padded downstairs, now aware of my growling stomach as I remembered pushing aside half of my breakfast and going for a brisk jog, hoping the frosty air would clear my mind.

Sitting at the table, I decided to ask my mother about thoughts like this. Trouble is, I'd opened my mouth before arranging the words in my head, so, thinking back on it, it probably didn't make a lick of sense to her, which was most likely why I got such a vague answer- or, as some might look at it, no answer at all.

"Hey, um, Mum?" I put my cutlery back down, not quite ready to eat, despite my stomach's protest.

"Yes, sweetie?" she craned her neck to look at me from her favourite armchair, distracted from whatever rubbish soap was on television.

"Um...have you ever had kind of...well, sort of a niggling feeling?"

Silence fell for a few minutes as I saw my mother's brow crease in confusion, pondering my query.

"I-I don't really know what you mean by that, Kerrie."

"Well, I mean, like, have you ever felt like, well, you've forgotten to do something, and you kind of have this itching sensation in the back of your mind?"

"Oh, I see what you mean! Yes, occasionally, but why do you ask?"

"Well, did you ever have a feeling that something bad was going to happen?"

Brows furrowed again.

"Well, um, I-I suppose I have in some situations that are dangerous, but, well, they've never lasted. Why are you asking, Kerrie?"

"No matter," I looked down at my plate and shoved a forkful of mashed potato into my mouth, not completely satisfied with my answer.

But, like my mother had said, these thoughts didn't last long.

Oh, how wrong she was.