Monsters

Monsters #5

I dumped my bag and folder on my desk and collapsed on my bed. The numb feeling had filled my chest like a cancerous tumor. Its presence had become constant. Sometimes it brought a heavy ache. On that day it was just emptiness.

        Loose strands of hair tickled my flushed cheeks and caught in my eyelashes. The covers were soft against my bare arms. I stared up at the white ceiling.

        My eyes traced the thin slithers of light that streamed through my blinds and striped the paint. Specks of dust floated through the golden rays in a lazy ballet. They were transfixing and strange. Their near motionless dance slowed time and soothed the hyperactive cells within my body. They drifted above my skin allusively.

        My mobile rang, breaking the spell that the particles had cast. The loud ringtone echoed through my bedroom, ricocheting off of the cream walls.

         I darted across the room and rummaged through my black bag. Crumpled paper brushed my knuckles and my finger tips traced an old pen. I threw a mathematics text book onto my desk and dug deeper into the creases of material.

        Cursing, I wriggled the phone free from the depths of my bag. I held it to the side of my face, tilting into it. “Hello?”

“Hay Clarissa,” Katy’s meek voice trembled as it leaked through the receiver.

“Hi Katy,” I murmured. Her breathing was shaking, rattling through the receiver.

My forehead puckered, “What’s wrong?”

“I-I need to talk,” she stammered.

“Talk. I have time,” concern was embedded in the words. I sat down on the edge of the bed. The mattress sunk beneath my weight.

        “I’m sorry,” she choked.

“Sorry about what?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.                                                                    

“What happened?” I asked, “Katy?”

        She started to cry. They were deep, heavy sobs that caught in her throat and rattled her lungs agonizingly. “Katy breathe,” I soothed, “It’s ok. Just tell me what’s wrong. It’s ok.”

“I n-need to talk to you.”

“I’m listening. I’m here Katy,” I breathed.

Katy inhaled deeply, “I-I’m late.”

“What?” my mind processed her words slowly.

“I think I might be pregnant,” she cried. My heart skipped a beat and my stomach dropped. The automatic motions of my body seemed to cease.

        “What?” I murmured, stunned.

“I think I-I’m pregnant.”

        I disconnected from myself. I could see myself sitting on the edge of my single bed, pale faced and shaking. I could hear Katy’s broken voice but the person who responded wasn’t me. Everything around me was distorted by her words, blurring in and out of focus.

        “Have you taken a test?” the question was rattled off in a monotone. It was dry and awkward on my tongue as if the words were too large for my mouth to form around. “No.”

“Have you told your parents?” My clammy hand adjusted around the phone, clutching it tighter.

“No. I can’t,” she sniffed.