“Hello I’m neurotic
Creating problems that don’t exist…”
Blue Lights –Pretty Girls Make Graves
The thrumming pulse resonating through the wooden floor was more than Hannah could stand; red lightning flickered in her vision. She beat her head in the corner and clawed at imaginary spiderwebs. The scent of coffee lingered—airborne criteria to indicate that an attack was about to start. They were sporadic, yet eventual, and so Hannah lived the life of the Medicated and Sedated.
Her hands trembled. Her chest caved in on itself. A sundae of eclectic blossoms adorned her vision.
Long. Deep. Bright.
The dinette stood brave under a month’s pile of laundry and schoolwork. There was no school anymore. There were people in school. People in Laundromats. Store-people were different; store-people were occupied. Robotic. Hungry. Hannah tossed dirty clothes to the floor and swept away used department store bags. She bought new clothes every week. She ate pizza or Chinese every day.
The college fund would last at least another year.
Long enough to go outside. To go someplace else.
Her hand landed on the orange prescription bottle and she shook out a pill. She shook out two. Water. Washed it down. Shook the bottle and washed more down and scratched her belly until there were red ribbons. She fell into endless night.
A sound awoke her.
Her eyes fluttered open. Looked around.
She pushed a hand through her hair and stopped midway. Her hand. It wasn’t her hand. It was wrinkled.