White Walls
Prologue
The thick, cold, heavy air felt like weights on my chest. With every single inhale, I’d consume the fog. I’m standing in the middle of an empty road, my ears are ringing from the dead silence. There is one single light illuminating the road ahead of me. I begin to walk, step by step I slowly make my way to the light. There are bugs flying around, begging for warmth. The fog has finally uncovered a bench, so I decide to sit down. I stare at the dark sky above, unable to see the moon. Where am I?
Chapter 1: White Walls
The bright sun peeked through my blinds. It felt as if the sun was aiming for my eyes begging me to wake up. I don’t want to get up, I don’t want to go to work, I don’t want to leave my bed. I manage to roll over and stare at my phone, just waiting for the alarm to go off. As I stare I catch a glimpse of all the empty cans that sit on my desk, that has nothing a desk should have on it. I should really clean that up. I roll over to stare at the blank white ceiling. I point at the ceiling for no reason. I roll over again and stare at the white wall. Just as blank as the ceiling. I keep rolling over and covering my head for what feels like hours, it feels like heaven.
Then it begins, my alarm starts blaring. I mute it. Ten minutes later, it starts screaming again. I don’t want to leave my bed. I know if I don’t leave my bed, everyone at my job will be disappointed. I’ve worked there for three years now, and I have never called in. I’m too scared to disappoint them, they rely on me, I can’t just not show up. I could if I was sick, but then the guilt is so overwhelming, I don’t think I could ever go back. But if I never went back, they’d be so much more upset and disappointed. What a ruthless, and unfair cycle.
I finally sit up on my bed, staring at the white wall ahead of me. I don’t want to get up, but I do. I stare at the laundry basket that’s mixed between clean clothes and my dirty clothes. I pick out my work uniform, throw it on my desk and look at myself. The mirror that hangs above my desk has a crack in the bottom right. I just stare at myself for what feels like an hour. I finally decide to put my clothes on, grab my phone, and leave. I’m not hungry.
As I lock the door to my apartment, my neighbor and her three young kids are in the hallway, it looks like she just picked them up from school, they look exhausted. My neighbor speaks with haste, “Come on guys, get out of his way!” she huffs, “I’m sorry Benjamin.”
I don’t really understand what she’s apologizing for but I speak softly, “You’re okay.”
She softly pushes her kids through the door and asks me, “Going to work?”
My eyes finally meet hers, “Yeah.”
She smiles lightly, “I really need to stop there again, the coffee is so good!”
“I mean I do work there, so it is the best,” I smiled.
She laughs, “Best cof-ay maker in town!” she throws her hands, “Well I don’t want to keep you, have a good day at work!”
I shrug “It’s okay, see you.”
Melanie has always been a nice older lady, she seemed in a rush to say bye. Usually she can speak for hours and hours, and I never know how to cut the conversation. Sometimes I leave my house earlier if I know she’ll be around, just so I won’t be late, and just so she wont be mad that I can’t talk.
I finally make my way down the stairs and out to the street. I look beneath my feet and it seems as if some kids made a hopscotch path. To hell with it, I jumped through the path and now I’m on my way. I walk down this sidewalk every single day, and I feel like everyday it slowly becomes unfamiliar. The trees that hang over the sidewalk remind me how beautiful nature can be, the leaves are slowly becoming orange and falling over. But I swear this tree wasn’t here yesterday. I walk in wonder until I finally meet the one familiar door, the handle is warm.
I walk in and I’m reminded of these familiar smells that make me sick to my stomach. I’ve learned to hate the coffee smell. Customers are aligned against the wall, there’s a customer who’s so sucked into his laptop, he seemed to forget about that sad old muffin next to him. There’s two young girls laughing it up in the corner, and there’s a couple; they look full of hatred. I make my way to the back, clock in and throw an apron on. I can hear my coworkers talking behind me, they’re chatter annoys me.
Before I’m even done tying my apron all the way, my manager appears from behind me, she yells, “Hey Benji! You’re late.”
I turn to look at her, “No I’m not”
She gets on her tippy-toes to look up at me, “Yes you are!”
I avoid eye contact, “I really don’t think I am.”
She sighs, “Ugh I’m kidding! Lighten up, you’re always so.” she pauses and looks up at the ceiling, “How do I put it? Brooding? Yeah brooding I think!”
“You think?”
“Yes I think!” She hits my arm lightly, “Well whatever work wherever you want, you know the ins and outs in this place better than me!”
I smile lightly as she walks away. She’s right, she’s only been here for three months. She knows the management stuff, and I know the store. Every single time she doesn’t know something, I can hear her high pitch, “Benji! Benji! Benji” from miles away. I hate my job. I look at the kitchen line and see all my coworkers in a circle, practically laughing in such a high decibel that a human can barely hear. They all look towards me and say hello. I nod and say hello back. I walk through the kitchen line, looking at everything that needs to be restocked. Then I go through every machine cleaning them, then I check on all the pastries.
The store is about to close, the few coworkers that are left are so quiet. The loud machines are the only noise, and it’s like heaven. I count every sad, lonely, old muffin that I have to throw away, one by one, goes in the trash. As I lock up the door I head home. The road ahead is so foggy, I swear that wasn’t on the forecast. I keep walking, the air is so cold that I can see my own breath. My hands are tucked inside my jacket, and I finally look under my feet and see the hopscotch path again, of course I jump through.
I walk back up the stairs and to my apartment, but something stops me. As I’m approaching the door, I can hear loud screams coming from Melaine’s apartment. Shouting back and forth, it reminds me of home. I know they’re in pain and that Melaine and whomever are having an emotional fight, but the familiarity reminds me of home, I feel at peace.
Just as I begin to unlock my door, a man flies out of Melaine’s apartment, he slams the door, yells obscenities and is on his way once again. As I walk through my kitchen, I open my fridge, and it’s practically empty, but that’s okay, I’m not hungry. I throw my jacket on the kitchen table. I’m exhausted. I take my hat off and stare at the bathroom mirror, wow my hair looks greasy. I’m a greaseball. I turn around and stare at the shower, tomorrow, yeah tomorrow I’ll shower.
I make my way to the only place that forever fills me with joy. My bed. As I get under the covers, the warmth of the blankets feels so comforting, a warm bed, a full stomach, a clean body. The perfect trio. My mind begins to wander and I begin to daydream so deep that it feels real. The connections I make with others in my mind feel far more real than the ones I actually make. The people I create in my mind are why I desire to be here, to be in my bed. The fake reality I have made up seems heavenly, it’s too bad all of it is a daydream. But to me this false reality is real enough, it gives me enough motivation to make it through the next day, all I ever think about is the false reality in my head.
I fell asleep without realizing.
Benji, why don’t you come visit us? C’mon say hi to Nala, I know you miss her. We miss you Benji. Just come over on Thanksgiving. We haven’t seen you in months. You look pale, Benji. Benji, are you bleeding? Benji is that you? Wow Benjamin, you came!
These voices, whose voices are these? Why are they so distant? Who are you? You would never speak to me like that, you would never care. So who are you? Get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my head. Get. Out. Of. My. Head.
My body shoots up, I’m sweating, my heart is beating so fast. Must’ve been a bad dream but I can’t remember what it was. My room is dark, and I look out my window to see that the moon is still out. Oh how beautiful, the moon is so wonderful. The day I can’t see the moon, it’ll be my last.
My heart is still beating at a hundred miles an hour, I can’t seem to calm down, but I don’t even understand what my body is freaking out about. But I’m quite used to it now. Every day for the last 20 years, I’ve experienced this feeling, usually more than once. I think I’d be far more scared if I didn’t feel like this for a day. I love the feeling of familiarity, it’s what keeps me sane.
I sigh and lay back down in my bed, staring once again at the white walls. I decide to pick up my phone, with only one missed notification, which is google news. It’s 2:37 A.M. I decide to go back to sleep, I flip and flip, but it’s hard to sleep with a heart that’s about to fall out of my chest. I begin to think once again about my false reality, and that calms my beating heart. I finally drift off once again, but the moment I drift off my phone rings, I let it ring, but it rings again, and rings once more. Oh my god, of course! Out of frustration I pick up the phone, without ever looking at who’s calling, I answer and with clear aanoyance I say “Hello, what?!” my gut sinks once I hear the person on the other line’s voice, my body sinks like a weight into my bed, I’m ashamed, why did I speak that way?
