Brenton
itumeleng kganyago
Shea
Always Eighteen
AhmedStars in My Head: Part One: Chapter 2.
November 17th 2007 04:45
SHARNEE’S BOOK.
I went into the hospital today. It was so white. Of course, all of them are but it seemed different today. I went to see Lola.
She’s dead.
I should cry. I wish I could cry, I wish I could feel for her. But I didn’t know her, and I can’t feel the loss of a pale white body, devoid of thought or soul.
How will I know? How will I know when my breath is my last, when my skin fade, when my blink will not open, when pain will crush down on my ribs like a constrictor, killing and hating. How will I know when my blood
Will
Stop
And
Flow
In
With
The
Dust.
I’m scared. I’m scared for Faith, how she’ll cope. She’s wonderful, like her name sake, yet also like her name, is weak and destructible.
I would pray for her, but I don’t believe in God.
No one. Can save me.
I hope for Faith.
I went into the hospital today. It was so white. Of course, all of them are but it seemed different today. I went to see Lola.
She’s dead.
I should cry. I wish I could cry, I wish I could feel for her. But I didn’t know her, and I can’t feel the loss of a pale white body, devoid of thought or soul.
How will I know? How will I know when my breath is my last, when my skin fade, when my blink will not open, when pain will crush down on my ribs like a constrictor, killing and hating. How will I know when my blood
Will
Stop
And
Flow
In
With
The
Dust.
I’m scared. I’m scared for Faith, how she’ll cope. She’s wonderful, like her name sake, yet also like her name, is weak and destructible.
I would pray for her, but I don’t believe in God.
No one. Can save me.
I hope for Faith.
Faith wasn’t at school that day. Sharnee sat with herself, leaning on a palm tree. She looked over at Mike sitting with Tom and George. George’s tattooed black nose and whiskers splayed across his face. His sharp fingernails evilly slit the flesh of an innocent banana, discarding on the ground like some brutalised corpse
.
Tom looked down into his lunchbox, looked up then quickly down again.
“Arrrg!”
“You right?,” asked Mike.
“Yeah. My bun turned into a tarantula.”
“Cool” said George.
“Piss off. It’s not cool. Imagine your towel turning into a snake.” Mike moved to see Tom better
.
“Did that happen once?”
“It wasn’t a towel but, yeah, sorta.”
“Is it still a tarantula?” asked George.
“Course not. They don’t last long, like mirages or stuff. I just see ‘em sometimes that’s all.”
“Mike!” called Sharnee from her tree.
“Yeah?”
“You seen Faith today?”
"No, why?"
“Big things happenin’! C’mere!”
“Kay” Mike got up and moved over to Sharnee. “What’s up Sharn?”
“She’s dead.”
“Faith!”
“Lola.’"
“Oh." Lola. The most anyone really know about her was she was Faiths friend. Nobody could really remember even her face. Not util she was on the cover of a newspaper, the subject of a real life horror story.
Mike shook his head. "Oh. I guess it was always gonna happen. Shit. You still don’t expect it though eh?”
Sharnee shook her head. Michael smiled sadly.
“How’s Faith taking it?
“I don’t know! She’s not at school today!” There was a misty pause. Sharnee spoke.
“She died in the night. Just died. No more tubes, no more crap. No more misty hissing breath, green twisting line. None. I don’t want to die like that. All tight white skin and tubes.”
“You probably won’t be hit by a car.”
“God, I hope not.”
Tom and George watched Mike and Sharnee talk.
“What are they talking about?” Tom shifted his eyes to the flagpole. The Aussie flag drooped at half mast.
“Flag’s at half mast.”
“So?” asked George, then opened further his eyes in realization. “Think it’s Lola?”
“Could be.” George shrugged.
“Ah well.”
***
It’s amazing
How one moment can change everything.
So I sit Alone.
Slowly fondling the knife in my hands.
Stroking it across my flesh.
Praying
For the strength
To cut.
And end
All
The bullshit…
I want to be like Lola. I want to be with her. Together. I don’t want to live in this world. I don’t want to live with this crap, this soul destruction. I don’t want to live. Any. More.
***
Michael, Tom and Sharnee walked down the streets, chatting. They reached Michael’s house.“See y’s”
“See ya Mike”
“Later”
He opened the door, dumped his bag and forced his shoes off with his feet. He went into the kitchen, opened the cupboard and took out the Weetbix, dumped it on the table with the milk, spoon and bowl, and made himself lunch, splattering milk over the table. He sliced into the biscuit with the spoon when a sharp defiant voice strode out from the house’s serenity.
“I saw you Michael!” He turned in his chair. His Gran stood in front of him, black mad hair, essenced like steel wool, blood red lipstick folded in a cruel frown.
“Saw me?” he asked, meekly.
“Conversing! With a member of the opposite sex. In such a casual manner that it could be only presumed that you had prior knowledge to her character, through previous acquaintance. Either that or you seem to have a total disregard for the etiquette presentable for the courting of elegant females.”
“I, we, we’re just friends!”
“Oh Michael! There is no such this as just a friend of the opposing gender. Have you kissed her yet? I dare say you have. And further too! You’ll be going to hell for eternity if you do not practice caution around your situation. When an event such as this acquaintance of yours occurs I expect to be told immediately!”
“I didn’t, haven’t done anything!” His Gran straightened up, a cobra in a black suit.
“Well. We shall see when the time of judgment comes. Now, you have schoolwork I presume.”
“A bit.”
“Good. Do it.” She turned and left into her study, leaving Mike to decimate his soggy Weetbix.
***
Sharnee stopped. Outside Faiths house she stopped.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. She could taste it in her breath. Tom looked at her.
“You right?” And quietly, like a soft unwinding spidergem she spoke.
“No. Something’s wrong. Faith… I have to see her. Now.”
“Sure. Y’want me t’ wait?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
She moved over to the front door and knocked. There was no answer.
She pushed down the door handle expecting it to be locked. With a soft click, it swung in, over the white lino. The kitchen sat in front of her, the faint scent of vomit wafting out. She moved through the house and began quietly to flow up the stairs.
She pushed open Faith’s bedroom door and a thousand ice shards seemed to slice into her heart.
Faith sat in her creased blue sheets flowing around her. A black knife lay in her lap. Her arm was marked, a criss-cross of red lines sweeping over the white. Her eyes were wide.
“I’m weak,” she whispered. “I’m weak. Can’t do it. Can’t do it. Too weak.”
“Your going to stay there, I’ll get an ambulance!”
“NO!” She stood up. “Are you stupid! I’m not physically weak! I’m pathetic!” She held up her arm with it’s red cuts. “Didn’t cut the veins. Couldn’t. Too… bloody… weak.”
“It’s OK. Your not weak, you’re smart, I’m glad, I’m glad you didn’t cut… through.” Sharnee shook her head. “I don’t want you to die.”
“I do.”
***
As Tom was walking up to his house he looked to the left and saw a car stop. The door opened and the Tin Man from the wizard of Oz stepped out. Tom watched him quizzically.
“Bloody hallucinations,” he muttered and went inside.
After he left, the Tin Man bought a loaf of bread and a container of milk then went outside and got in his car.
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