How
I have to get out of here. I realise. I have to escape my fear. But how? How am I meant to conquer my fear if I don't even know what it is? I think of all the common fears: snakes, spiders, small spaces. None of those scare me. Although I admit being frightened of the idea of being squashed. I go through the fears I had as a child: needles, blood, pain, clowns. Still, none of those scare me. I replay my greatest fear in my head.
The grass shining green beneath the blue sky. My best friend, Ella, wears a tan, glowing on her skin. Bees, filled with honey, bob up and down as they fly around the flowers.
Then Ella screams.
Long and shrill at the top of her lungs. My head whips round to see her limp body rolling down the hill. I stare at it in shock. I run down after her and past her dead body. I run past all the trees, humming at me. I run all the way back home. And cry.
The day I lost my best friend. Still a vivid picture in my mind. Still today I kick myself for not saving her. When she screamed, my survivor's instinct kicked in. I didn't care about anyone else. I only cared about myself. But I did care about other people. As soon as I got back home, I considered running back for her. Trying to save her. But the thought of dying scared me more than the thought of losing my best friend.
Finally, the memories flood back to me. After choosing not to save my best friend, I had trouble breathing. I would refuse any food and stay in bed all day. I sought help at the doctor's, who said that this horrible feeling was guilt. He gave me a vial and ordered me to drink it. Immediately I questioned it, thinking that it was drugs to kill me. I would've deserved it. The doctor calmly explained that it would put me in my brain so I could see what guilt looked like and stop and think next time. I downed the sloshy blue liquid.
It all seems so clear now. A light flickers in the dark. A light at the end of the tunnel. I escape the grasps of guilt and run. Run as fast as I can. The light gets closer. Wider. Easier to reach. I think of all the fun I will have when I get out. The light is in touching distance. Then the light flickers off.
