Wall to Wall
I sat staring at the wall in front of me. The wall, 10 feet from my head was moving. Well not really, but my mind — a feeble concoction of wires blurting signals to the wrong synapse causing confusion and haze that has no matter.
But I stared at the wall anyway, pinching myself, a painful reminder that I was somewhat lucid. I knew it now, I had to get out of this place. This four-walled layered hell that, I sleep sometimes, have guests sometimes and yes even sleeping guests sometimes. But now it was jail, and I felt like Steve McQueen. It's funny, I have, well had, The Great Escape on VHS — when they were relevant mind you— but my mother, a cruel woman with hair that could scare a ghost decided I didn't want them anymore. But I relished in the story of survival and now I was The Cooler King.
I was getting out of this house, my jumbled mind had shackled me long enough and the front door, an oak rectangle no bigger than me at 5'8" was only 18 paces. I knew that because of last time. The last time I wanted to taste the summer air, warm and delicious, the last time I had erected the courage. Designing said courage was like pyramid building, slow and sometimes the one lifting the block came off second best. Funnily enough, I’d come off second, third, fourth and well you get the picture.
My sofa swallowed me, the plush cushions had that home feel, like a down duvet that felt neverending. The wall, I’d focused so hard on eliminating the paces to the door that the wall had moved closer. I looked at the rendered structure, it had an intimidating breadth but cream wasn't a conflicting colour so it had no power. But a wall built for two stories moving slowly was no threat to ignore.
I stood.
The rain had clapped off my cobblestone balcony and each droplet hitting stone ricocheted through the cracked window. Cracked — well more shattered. The window had been my new holding place for a coffee mug that was within reach of the door during the last failed escape fiasco.
Now, one foot in front of the other. The railing to the stairs adjacent to my suspended bedroom was helpful. The wall, closer again, my hand touched the cool steel of the rail as the rush of stability bolted my arms stiff. The dwindling confidence levels I had previously were no more.
One more step. Wall within a few feet.
My heart decided it was time to exit my body through my chest by osmosis. My head was damp with sweat and the familiar copper taste of fear filled my mouth.
Another step, shit, I lost count. It didn't matter, I was within touching distance of the silver globe door handle and I could smell the fume-filled draught leaking in. Freedom fading in my brain and I was so close it had the air of intimacy. The wall was on me like a bulldozer, hurtling me in the direction of the door which swung open. The day sky, beautiful and blue, had me for what felt like minutes but was more microseconds.
I fell. Hard.
I rolled to my side and the rattle from my pocket sent shackles down my neck. The small orange bottle was half empty I noticed as I pulled it out, the sticker had torn off and the words Efexor-XR tattooed my index finger. I spun the cap and dropped the capsule of freedom into the palm of my hand. The clamminess of my nervous hands had no weight over me, I knew what was coming. The pill didn't touch the sides of my mouth, it slid down my throat.
Freedom.
