Rosemary
sat back heavily, trying to work out exactly when she'd lost her grip
on reality. She stared blankly at the computer screen, which not so
long ago had been her world. Now all it represented was a huge waste
of her life.
She
stared into the empty box, seemingly mocking her, daring her to
switch it off. She could sense its wrath even as she thought about
the power switch.
She
stood up wearily and shuffled into the bathroom, the computer
forgotten for now. She could afford to prolong its life for another
few minutes. Looking in the mirror, contemplating her reflection, it
was no longer a face that she recognised. Her hair was a complete
mess, hanging limply either side of her pasty face. Her eyes were
sunken and black around the edges, a stark contrast to the rest of
her complexion. Months of hiding away in her bedroom with the
curtains drawn had drained all the colour away. She'd been expecting
to have such a pale complexion, but was totally unprepared for seeing
just how gaunt she was. She still hadn't got over the shock of
seeing herself amongst all the confusion.
She'd
been eating, of course. Just not quite as often as mother would've
liked, who still insisted on cooking all the old family favourites
even though it was only the two of them now. Her dad had died years
ago and her brothers had their own places. At first she didn't mind
but the smells drifting up from the kitchen had held less appeal to
her. Food became a necessity rather than a pleasure.
When
she'd stopped going down for meals, mother would bring food up now
and again, but it turned into something of a battle between them. In
an attempt to encourage Rosemary downstairs, mother would refuse to
bring her anything, but that didn't bother Rosemary. She knew it
would always be mother that caved in first, leaving a plate of
something outside the door. A few knocks would signal its arrival
before shuffling feet went off down the stairs again in defeat.
Rosemary
never did see the pain that she caused her mother. The worry that
built up, not knowing what to do to coax her daughter from her
self-imposed prison. Not understanding just how someone could spend
their entire lives chained to a virtual world, when the real world
outside held so much more.
She
had no idea when the pain that mother felt was more than just
emotional. No idea that the pain was far worse, something she would
never recover from.
Rosemary didn't even
notice when she no longer heard mother coming up and down the stairs.
Night came and went three times before she even realised that she
hadn't eaten for awhile, her stomach protesting its neglect. Just
once, prompted by this plea from within, did she open the door of her
bedroom to peer down the stairs. She was so overcome with fear of
stepping out onto her own landing she had to withdraw, closing the
door firmly and hiding under her covers. It took an age to calm
herself down again.
This wasn't anything like
the shock that awaited her though. She didn't know what was
happening when she heard the noise of someone shouting and bounding
up the stairs. She'd been so scared she'd hidden under the bed. She
was trembling all over when her door was thrown open and in her
terror she didn't recognise the voice of her own brother calling for
her. The look on his face when she crawled out from her hiding place
was of confusion and disbelief. He was talking at her but she was
barely registering anything he said. The odd word broke through,
something about '...mother....how long.....dead....' The last word
hung in her ears while she tried to comprehend.
She
followed reluctantly down the stairs on shaky legs. Her brother was
on the telephone, frantically talking to someone or other, Rosemary
had no idea who. She only had to go halfway down though to see her
mother lying on the kitchen floor. How long she had been there like
that she'll never know. Grief consumed her as she collapsed on the
stairs and she gasped as she saw herself in the mirror at the bottom.
Unable to articulate her emotional confusion she barely registered
people coming in and out.
That was three days ago
and now, staring in the mirror, she still couldn't make sense of it
all. She had so many feelings buzzing around inside and knew that
guilt played a major part. There was no room for feeling the loss of
her mother just yet.
She
went back into her bedroom, the fortress she had built around
herself. She sat down with her hand poised over the off switch. She
knew she should turn it off and be done with it forever ...
Interesting story, tackling the subject of being stuck in a destructive habit, one which begins to overpower the actual world.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing.