a big date. it took three weeks && a lie promising she was a great cook to convince the girl to give her a chance (the fact she kept fucking up her french , so full of nerves she spent 3 minutes rambling, hadn’t made a great first impression.) her roommate having laid out the ingredients && instructions to stop her fucking it up had gone to drink && pray she didn’t burn the place down.
a fish oil pill in the sauce, she couldn’t resist stealing a taste. music blasts from her phone, she dances around the kitchen trying to find the smallest spoon possible to stop her trying too much of it should it taste nice (her stomach rumbles loudly to remind her she hadn’t eaten since the day before.) caught up in her own head, imagination running wild as usual, she doesn’t notice the cocoon beginning to form around her.
everything stops. she can’t hear the music anymore, can’t smell the prawns ;; everything is dark && cold && for a moment she wonders if she’s managed to blow up the cooker —- if this is death. she doesn’t understand what else it might be until the cocoon begins to flake away. she falls to the floor when the cocoon no longer holds her up.
her hair flies around her face && her face stings from the cold bite of harsh wind, she struggles to breathe && crawls behind the kitchen counter looking for refuge. the saucepan narrowly misses hitting her in the face when it flies off the stove && she curls in on herself in response with her knees to her chest && forehead resting on her arms (she doesn’t think she’s ever been so scared or confused in her entire life.) she doesn’t know when it stops or when she stops crying, didn’t even realize she was crying until she see’s the tear tracks on her arms. slowly pushes herself to her knees to peer over the counter.
the foods all over the floor && the cookers still on, the tables on it’s side && the tv’s on the floor. stays on her knees to crawl over to the cooker && turn it off, grabs her now cracked phone from the floor. she doesn’t know who to call. she doesn’t even know what she would say. she’s dialing the number without thinking, still knows it off by heart, && part of her is terrified that if he does pick up he’s going to hang up on her straight away (she has no right to call him now for help, not after what she did, the things she said. she knows that even if she wishes it wasn’t true && she changed her number just so she didn’t have to deal with them calling her but she can’t think about that right now, can only hope he answers because she needs her big brother.)
bites her lip when she hears the dial tone, bites harder with every ring until she can taste blood. it rings five times before her eyes sting again, her heart falls – she throws the phone at the wall with a choked off sob. karma, she thinks, had finally gotten her back for walking out on her family. lesson learnt, she decides, no more leaving people who need her. tears start to fall again, the wind picks back up from nowhere, she curls up on her side && cries.
