Being Shot

P h o t o #56 - That One Photograph

P h o t o #56 - That One Photograph

The analog clock above the bed ticked onward, its miniscule sound the only tether I had to the room enclosing me. Even with its monotonous click, I still had no sense of time as I his myself deep within my knees, my back still pressed to the door so tight my spine began aching from the force. I gripped at the clothes Kayla had leant me, the new, fresh ones that changed into after my shower. The knocking and yelling from before had slowly faded out with the sun's setting, and now I was left to my own devices after hours of no response from my end.

There were sometimes where I found myself zoning back into the world, the only thing my exposed mind could focus on was the time as it ticked on without my knowledge, but I would always quickly fall into step with my thoughts. I didn't have it in me to care how much of this time I was actually wasting; I was too scared to find out, and the consequences with every passing second seemed to grow. Consequences I was too afraid to face.

Somehow, during these times, I was always reminded how much I seemed to boast about the change I was ready to accept into my life. Again and again I found myself surrending to my usual woes, little things here and there always getting to me enough to question my new way of thinking. I disliked how wishy-washy I've been, and facing the things I disliked about myself was a great way to make myself feel worse than I already did, even if I knew I had to face the truth.

A sigh tumbled from my mouth as I blinked away the thin layer of glaze that coated my sticky eyes. Even if I hadn't cried yet - my heart was too numb for tears - my body felt as though I hadn't stopped for days. The raw, achey feeling I felt down to my bones was uninvited, and even if the Appollo household had an updated heating system I still shivered uncontrollably in the thick clothes Kayla lent to me.

I rested my chin atop my kneecaps, still working on the glassiness in my pupils as I watched dusk set into the sky through the slit in the elongated window's curtains. Lavender and mauve painted the distant horizon like professional strokes on a midnight colored canvas. Even if I was ways away from the single window, I could see the bright multitude of stars stitched into the atmospheric quilt above.

I would've smiled at the beautiful sight if I were in better circumstances, would've taken out the camera Elliot had given to me - the one I couldn't part with the moment I began my acquaintanceship with it - and started snapping as many shots as I could. Even in the back of my mind, I would know that no camera could do this view justice, but the thought would never stop me from documenting the memory.

During my darkest times, my camera was always something I could count on to bring out of the slump. My fingers fidgeted as they wished to feel the shutter release button, the snapping sound it released always satisfying. I gripped my calves, digging my nails into the unimpressive muscle below to keep my hands busy.

My head fell against the dark wood door locking me in, the back of my scalp pounding from the pressure of thinking for hours on end. I guessed this could compare to the times when I first moved to this town, the times I hid myself in my grandmother's cottage, the times I've tried putting behind me.

But it was hard putting that past away from view. It was hard trying to go on while I discarded the events that shaped me into who I was now. The cowardly Emma. The Emma who only knew how to run away with her tail in between her legs.

The clocked ticked again, and I narrowed my eyes at the carpetting, 'Wait a minute...' I thought, switching to my logical sense of thinking, 'Have I really been nothing but cowardly all this time? Have I really never changed?'