25th October 2016 All Rights Reserved.
I don't know when it was when I started to hear sounds breaking through the fog that was clouding my mind.
It was only a few little things at first and for only the shortest amount of time at that. Not for very long at all.
Sometimes I would hear the sounds of laughter and then I would hear the sounds of arguing and since it was only very briefly, I couldn't tell who it was that was making those sounds.
Sometimes I would hear the deep voice of someone who was really close to me and at the same time, I would feel a gentle touch on either my hand, my head or my face. It was a light and brief feeling sort of touch that i thought I imagined it when it first happened.
But it happened again and again. But mainly when I heard that deep voice.
Sometimes I would catch the sounds of a conversation from too many different people for me to be able to tell who they were. But it happened alot.
But I think the one voice that was constantly there was that deep one.
Then I would fall back into the darkness that was always there to welcome me back.
I don't know how long this happened for before I realised that there was something in my mouth. It didn't taste nice either, I thought. Plastic and rubber I was thinking. Yuck.
Another time I woke up and I heard something that also sounded familiar. Click, clack.. click, clack.. I knew those sounds and I knew who was making them.
Mrs Beemer was close by knitting like she usually does when i am bed bound. She was always sitting beside my bed making something for me.
I can't count the times I went home after losing a beanie and she would just pull one out of her hat so to speak and leave it for me on my bed. I also remember the many scarfs and socks she made as well. Not just for me, but for Jack too.
She has a soft spot for Jack for some reason. But then Jack likes her too. He was always swiping her cakes or biscuits when she wasn't looking. But i think she always knew about it.
She never went crook at him either.
He brought her a really pretty rock we found down at the river once. He spat on it and cleaned it with his sleeve and gave it to her.
" For payment of the cookies." Jack said to her with a smile.
Mrs Beemer had such a big smile on her face as she took it from him along with giving him a hug too. Then she gave him a bag of cookies to take home.
She still had that rock too. She kept it on her bedside cupboard. It was the last thing she saw of a night and the first thing she saw in the morning.
I wondered why she was here. Wherever here was that is.
Was I sick? I can't remember.
I tried to hear for more sounds but I couldn't catch anything distinguishable that I knew the sound of. I don't know how many times I woke up to hear that knitting click clacking away sound Mrs Beemer made.
I always did like it I was thinking as I fell into the darkness that was always calling me.
I became aware another time of that deep voice again sitting right beside me talking as I felt fingers lightly brushing my hair away from my face.
Thinking of my face, I felt something different about it that I couldn't put my finger on. I'm sure it will come to me.
" I'm so so very sorry Sarah. So very sorry." That deep voice was saying over and over again.
Sarah. I think that was my name. Sarah. If I tried to think of anything else, it hurt. So I didn't think. But I think my name is Sarah.
But Sarah who? Maybe it will come to me later sometime.
It was the sound of arguing that pulled me back to consciousness again. The voices sounded familiar but I was having a hard time thinking of the faces that matched them.
" Oh, don't be an idiot. It didn't happen like that. You tell him Sarah. Jack's an arse." I heard some girl saying calling my name pulling me into an argument of some sort.
" It's no good trying to deny it. It was Freddy who threw that pie in the sixth grade. Not me." I heard the boy say before speaking again.
" You remember don't you Sarah. I know you do because you were the one who started that food fight in the canteen that day." I heard him say.
Why was he talking about a food fight. I haven't been in a food fight for years. Not since school anyway. I remember one that happened years ago with Freddy when he had to be a smark alec.
He said some stupid remark about some little girl. A little red haired one. Jack went to defend her and Angela started squawking about Jack being her boyfriend or such some rubbish and I didn't like that so I threw a piece of pie at her.
Got her right in the face too I did.
I think that little girl was Jen. My friend. It sounds like that is her I heard speaking earlier.. with Jack. My best friend.
But he was away on holiday after finishing school.
Was he back? When did he come back? I was having such a hard time remembering some things when I was awake each time.
But the deep voice. I can't remember who that was. At least not yet anyway.
But I was staying awake a little more and more now. Not that anyone could tell since I couldn't move yet. The only thing I could move was my tongue a little. Just the tiniest bit around that ugly tasting plastic.
If I could move it enough, I could just about poke it out the side of my mouth beside the tube that was in my mouth. Just a little bit.
I wondered why there was a tube in my mouth. I didn't like it and I really didn't want it there. Why can't they take it out.
But why was it there in the first place?
I tried to remember what lead me to being here and I can't remember anything at all. Not one thing. I wondered what happened?
The deep voice was there again and I was still wondering who it was? He was yelling at Jack and I think Jen. He was telling them to get out after they blamed me for the fight.
Just you wait Jack until I get my hands on you again. I will slap him silly.
A slap. There was something about a slap but when I try to remember what it was, my head hurt.
If I was awake, it was like I was looking through the glass of a window where everyone was outside and I was inside hitting my hands against the glass trying to get their attention.
That is what it felt like for me at the moment.
It wasn't just annoying, but was also somewhat frightening for me too since I don't know what happened.
Hopefully soon I will.
YOU ARE READING
Too Ugly To TameChickLit
He called me feral. I was too wild. I was too ugly to tame and too ugly to love. The only friend I had was his son Jack, who I felt had a kindred spirit like mine. We both were wanting to roam free and to explore the world around us. Even if it w...