TRAPPED IN THE PAST
Chapter Four
One step forward, two steps back. That's how
it always is, right? After the trip into town, things went right back to where
they had been, possibly even worse. Except that this time I sank more into a
depression-like state than an anxiety-ridden one. However, I was numb to what
was happening to me. I continued to lose weight, as I hardly ate, and what was
worse was the fact that I didn't care. I didn't give a damn that I was wasting
my life away. All I did was sit around the house and wallow in self-pity.
At night, I still had panic attacks every
once in a while. It was actually a nice change from the endless feeling of
hopelessness and rage I usually had inside of me. It was relieving to know my
heart still did beat, that the fault line running down the middle of it hadn't
damaged the organ too badly.
It was late June when Katherine finally
brought to my attention how pathetic I was being. In short, she told me to get
my ass outside. I refused flatly. Outside there were people, people meant
people like Cal, and that meant I might be found out.
"Rose, you're so pale," she
protested one morning at breakfast.
"I don't care," I mumbled, looking
down at my book. They had become my salvation. When I wasn't sitting around or
having maniacal thoughts of my aunt dying, I was reading. It was a good thing
Katherine had a large conglomeration of them, because now’a days I was going
through one or two every twenty-four hours. They kept my mind occupied, allowed
me to escape the harsh realities.
Katherine sighed and checked her watch.
"I've got to go," she said, her voice sounding very tried.
"Please, please, please…go outside." She began to fuss around, trying
to get her purse and things in order. "Go find a job…something…just to get
out of the house."
"I can't do anything," I answered
truthfully. Who would hire me? I couldn't cook, I couldn't sew, I didn't know
how to waitress, I couldn't act because the thought of getting in front of
people made me feel short of breath, and I couldn't teach--that was almost
worse than acting.
Katherine ignored my statement as she gave me
a pleading look, and then she was gone, hustling out the back door. I sighed,
angry about having to be alone again. The clock in the hall ticked rather
annoyingly as I folded my book down on the table and clicked my fingers on the
wood. Then again, I thought, I did not really want any company except my aunt,
and she had to go to work so she could not only support herself, but her
pissing-her-life-away-niece.
Without hesitation, I went back to my book.
It was quite interesting. However, after another hour, my eyes started to ache
and I began to get bored. I could be captivated only so long with a subject
when it was just I. If someone else were around to talk with, subjects became
easier to be immersed in. However, when the discussions were one-sided, they
began to outstay their welcome. I sighed and set the book down again. I didn't
even know what I was talking to myself about.
With some difficulty, I got up from the table
and staggered down the hall. In less time than it takes to tell, I climbed the
stairs and went into my bedroom. It wasn't that I was bored, per say. I just
couldn't find anything that held my interest for very long. I crossed the room,
going over to the big window. Pulling back the curtains, I looked down at the
street. Every few moments, someone would walk past, on his or her way to
somewhere. I envied them. If only I didn't get sick every time I stepped
outside alone, and if only Katherine were home more.
I hated couples the most. They made me want
to vomit and run out there and tell them to cherish every moment together. So
whenever I saw two people huddled really close, or walking hand-in-hand, I
would let the curtain fall back to its resting place and shut the two out of my
vision field. A deep pain would rise in my chest and I would find it hard to
breathe. But then, in a few moments, the feeling would subside and I could look
again.
"You're being pathetic," I said out
loud to myself. "You're absolutely insane!"
I suddenly got it into my head that I needed
a change and decided that change needed to be my hair. Why this all of a sudden
came to me, I never knew. It just appeared and then I thought, what a nice
idea! My hair was so ridiculously long; I hated it. Smiling softly, I moved
from my place near the window. I'd seen some scissors in the bathroom the other
day; hopefully they were still there.
You don't know the first thing about
cutting hair, a little voice in my
head told me as I made my way through the quiet hall and into the bathroom. I
cast this conscience aside. I'd seen the hairdresser do it enough when I'd
gone. How hard could it be?
I soon found out. First I washed and dried my
hair, which felt good, and then combed it out, which took some work. I hadn't
really paid much attention to it in the last few mouths, so it really was a
mess. Then, with trembling hands, I lifted the scissors and snipped a few ends
off. It really wasn't that difficult, at first, but then my hair began to dry
and was starting to be all different lengths. This was not looking good.
With angst, I started to cut more off and the
next thing I knew, it was just below my shoulders; when it dried completely, it
would be just about level with them. I put the scissors down before I could do
any more damage. Then I dared to look at myself. A couple of pieces were still
uneven; I cringed. So much for it being easy.
I sighed and took a towel from the rack
behind me. Furiously, I dried the failed experiment and then stood back to
study myself again. Dry, it looked a tad bit better, but still not great.
Oh, well, I told myself as I threw the towel on the ground. You can't do
much more than that.
I retreated back to my room. I stayed up
there, staring out at the big, scary world until my aunt finally did come
home--earlier than she or I expected. It was only three; I glanced at the clock
when I heard her come in. How odd. She was almost never home early.
Dragging myself downstairs, I met her in the
hallway. Before I could ask her why she was home, she gave me an almost angry
look and then groaned.
"You're still here?"
Her disappointed tone of voice stung me. Yes,
I was still here.
Katherine sighed and hung her purse up on the
coat rack. I saw her coming toward me, and before I could move, she had grabbed
my chin with her hand, holding it firmly in place.
"Rose, listen to me. This is pathetic.
Will you please let me put you on some sort of medication so we can get this
cleared up? I promise, if they do not work, you can go off them. But this
sleeplessness, the attacks…they need to be taken care of."
I shied my eyes away from her gaze. How did
she know about all that? I had not told her anything. My mind raged with things
I wanted to shout, but I couldn't. Instead, I tore myself away from her grip
and back into the corner of the hallway. Katherine reached into her purse and
pulled out a little bottle. After shaking it up and down a few times, she threw
it at me. I caught it before the thing could hit me in the face and stared at
it.
"Just try them," Katherine directed
as she gave me a stern look. "I know how many are in there and I will be
checking to see if you are taking them."
What if I flush them down the toilet? I thought bitterly as she turned around.
"And don't even try throwing them
away," she called over her shoulder, starting to walk toward the kitchen.
"I'll be able to tell if you are taking them or not. Oh, and what did you
do with your hair?"
Shit, was she a mind reader or something?
Ignoring her inquiry about my hair, I sighed heavily and looked at the bottle
again. I supposed it couldn't hurt to try them, just once or twice.
*****
They worked, needless to say. I slept soundly
every night, woke up refreshed, and actually began to have a sort of appetite.
It was nice to finally be able to eat food and enjoy it again. And while my
diet was nowhere near as it should have been, at least I felt a little better.
At least Katherine got off my case. She was rather smug about the fact that she
told me so, as well.
It was not that I minded the drugs, it was
that I was scared. I knew what I was like when I was wasn't taking them. And it
frightened me to think that if they suddenly went away, I would become
seriously screwed up again. I would rather solve the problem than rely on drugs
for the rest of my life, but since no one had any clue what that problem was,
including myself, it was pointless.
I didn't mind being around people as much,
but I hated being alone. It really frightened me to think that if someone
wasn't there, Cal could just show up and take me away. And then this thought
disgusted me. Had I become so helpless that I was afraid of Cal? I had proved I
was stronger than his will already; I had survived when he had abused me, tried
to lure me in, tried to kill me and my best friend. I had become a stone
against the harsh wind that was his oppressive personality; he might have tried
to wear me down, but had not succeeded in the end. I was stronger than he was,
or would ever be.
It was the first day in July that Katherine
announced that she had been invited to a Fourth of July party and asked if I
would like to accompany her as her guest. This took some thought on my part. On
the one hand, I reasoned it might be healthy for me to get outside and be with
some new company. However, I was still a tad nervous about the whole situation.
With hesitation, however, I agreed. Katherine looked even more pleased than
when she got me to take those pills.
I hated that.