Dagian: Part 1

Options: Part 1

I slammed my door and slumped in the chair. "You handled that well. Coward." A pitiful sigh grumbled in my throat. Forget it. I turned my attention to my laptop, struggling to focus on the words of my history paper. No matter how much I tried, my mind kept wandering back to that night before Christmas.

I had battled to find a reason for Sophie's desertion. Sure, she may have threatened to leave, but she'd never done it before. Could my incessant whining tipped the balance. Had she grown tired of being my protector? Was I that pathetic that none of it mattered anymore?

My life was on a downward spiral to Freaky Town.

Why did you leave me Sophie?

I'd even spoken to Jane about the nightmare in my last therapy session. She tried reassuring me it was due to late night studying and early mornings. Her flimsy, yet well-intended explanation might have succeeded. If not for the fact these issues had disrupted my life since childhood.

One massive problem with her theory: how much longer could I keep this freaky shit from the people who knew me? What petrified me the most though, was the thought of Jane appearing in the middle of the night and locking me away until everyone forgot I existed. If my parents abandoned me as a baby, what hope did I have?

"Maybe that's why they left me." My mumbled words echoed through the silence, invisible restraints shackling me to a lifetime of hell predetermined by my birth. "Why can't I be normal?"

I peered up from the screen and shivered, blinded for a moment by the darkness. A waft of cold air blew across the back of my neck— it had happened a lot since Sophie's desertion. Not even wanting to look behind, I grabbed the cardigan from the backrest, put it on, and swivelled the chair round to face Jodie's side of the room.

The light from my desk lamp barely reached her bed. Any other time I hated the mess of her discarded clothes and overflowing bin. Right now, it was all I wanted to see.

My eyes froze on the black mass leaning against her headboard. Tiny disembodied hands and feet protruded out of the emptiness, reaching out to me; haunting glass eyes glinted in the sepia glow. God I hate dolls. I shuddered and looked away.

Do it now. I spun the chair round with one big push of my feet.

The immediate rush hit my head. And in those brief seconds of weightlessness as the dizziness floated away, I saw the room creep tighter in. The light flickered; my heart responded as the dull khaki paint formed dark shadows ready to ensnare me. Not giving myself time to think, I stumbled to the light switch by the door and flicked it on, and watched as the shadow people disappeared.

No more. Time to talk to someone, and quick.

I paced the room for a while, comforted by the illuminating glare of the overhead light. Everything appeared normal. Except for the coven of evil dolls. Jodie's blanket lay on the floor so I picked it up and threw it over them, blocking them from my sight, and flopped on the bed exhausted.

My findings looked dead in the water.

Option 1: Jane, champion of rational thinking. No, she had left for the holidays and I refused to hold out for another five days.

Strike one.

Option 2: Sam, my best friend— my one real friend. Beautiful. Talented. Quick-witted, and above all, modest. Almost everyone in the children's home loved her. Hell, I loved her. Who wouldn't?

The best thing about Sam was, despite my lack of communication she accepted my quirky ways. Although, I still hadn't found the courage to tell her the truth. Okay, so I hadn't reached that desperate stage to risk losing the one true friend I had. Anyway, how did I know if she would understand? Besides, her idea of an emergency involved a chipped nail or wearing the wrong colour for your skin tone. My emergency stretched the boundaries of our friendship.

Strike two.

I pushed deeper, trying to find any other available choices. No one came to mind. Am I that much of a loner?

Strike three. You're out.

Sophie was right to leave me. I lived a pathetic excuse of a life.

The tears breeched the dam of my tear ducts, burning a trail in their hurry to get away. No point in fighting; no one was here to witness my epic downfall. So I let it go, crying until the tank ran empty and no more tears stained the pillowcase. Until every muscle in my body ached for someone to hold me— to soothe away the pain.

The last indulgent tremor rippled into nothingness.

No. This self-inflicted pity party needed to stop. No way could I allow it to take hold. To remove every trace which made me different. Even if, it meant a lifetime of loneliness.

Get up you idiot. My body responded without question. I refused to let this thing win.