Coping Mechanisms
Read?
She was angry. Oh, she had no clue why. But she had to get away from the loud ‘family’ to think about the eventful day she’d just had.
Grabbing her black and white hoodie, her mp3, and journal, she stormed past her mother and called:
“I’ll be back ‘afore dark, I promise.” She promised. And she would be, just like she’d said.
“No, why are you going? You can’t just leave without telling me,” she retaliated. Her voice was one of unneeded concern.
“Where’s the trust, mom? I just need to get away and listen to music; it’s too loud inside,” she said calmly and quietly as tiny droplets formed in the corners of her eyes.
“No – why do you want to go?” There was a small smirk over her face. Her mother had thought she was going to see someone – or have a ciggy. But she wasn’t. She wouldn’t even dream of doing that after what happened last time.
“Mom! Why can’t you just trust me? Let me go – I said I’ll be back before dark, what more do you want?” Cathy pleaded.
“Fine.”
She ran down the road to the park she called her ‘sanctuary’. The park consisted of two swings; one normal, rusted one and another kiddy one. Also, there were a couple of slides and an old rotten bridge connecting the dusty yellow holes together.
Catherine stole the swing before anyone in one hundred metres could. She threw her jandals, journal and blue pen onto the charcoal-like bark and sat there. On the black swing, she sat, out of breathe. After thinking quietly, she realised what she had to do.
She closed her eyes – squeezed them shut so tightly that all she could see was midnight black. Then, she pushed her herself off the ground and kept swinging back and forward until she was higher than ever before.
The only way she could tell she was high up was because of the wind whipping through her long, blonde hair. The feeling was intense. Each time she was at the top – definitely higher than the bar which supported the chains – Cathy would always lean forward a little too far and nearly flip off toward her death. Or at least a broken arm. It was all a part a of the thrill of being in danger, she guessed.
It was like nothing she’d ever known or heard of before - a new way to cope with everything wrong in her life. All the anger she had, she put into the pushing of the swing to try and make her reach further toward the sky.
It’ll never happen, I’ll never reach the sky, she thought. Yet she still kept pounding those beats until she grew out of breath and slowed down.
Cath grabbed her journal and wrote down a few sentences while moving slowly with the wind. She twirled around the chains while she sat and wrote, unaware of the dog barking in the distance with it’s owner.
Then it was time to go. Cathy turned around before running back home.
”I’ve definitely got to come back here.”
Grabbing her black and white hoodie, her mp3, and journal, she stormed past her mother and called:
“I’ll be back ‘afore dark, I promise.” She promised. And she would be, just like she’d said.
“No, why are you going? You can’t just leave without telling me,” she retaliated. Her voice was one of unneeded concern.
“Where’s the trust, mom? I just need to get away and listen to music; it’s too loud inside,” she said calmly and quietly as tiny droplets formed in the corners of her eyes.
“No – why do you want to go?” There was a small smirk over her face. Her mother had thought she was going to see someone – or have a ciggy. But she wasn’t. She wouldn’t even dream of doing that after what happened last time.
“Mom! Why can’t you just trust me? Let me go – I said I’ll be back before dark, what more do you want?” Cathy pleaded.
“Fine.”
She ran down the road to the park she called her ‘sanctuary’. The park consisted of two swings; one normal, rusted one and another kiddy one. Also, there were a couple of slides and an old rotten bridge connecting the dusty yellow holes together.
Catherine stole the swing before anyone in one hundred metres could. She threw her jandals, journal and blue pen onto the charcoal-like bark and sat there. On the black swing, she sat, out of breathe. After thinking quietly, she realised what she had to do.
She closed her eyes – squeezed them shut so tightly that all she could see was midnight black. Then, she pushed her herself off the ground and kept swinging back and forward until she was higher than ever before.
The only way she could tell she was high up was because of the wind whipping through her long, blonde hair. The feeling was intense. Each time she was at the top – definitely higher than the bar which supported the chains – Cathy would always lean forward a little too far and nearly flip off toward her death. Or at least a broken arm. It was all a part a of the thrill of being in danger, she guessed.
It was like nothing she’d ever known or heard of before - a new way to cope with everything wrong in her life. All the anger she had, she put into the pushing of the swing to try and make her reach further toward the sky.
It’ll never happen, I’ll never reach the sky, she thought. Yet she still kept pounding those beats until she grew out of breath and slowed down.
Cath grabbed her journal and wrote down a few sentences while moving slowly with the wind. She twirled around the chains while she sat and wrote, unaware of the dog barking in the distance with it’s owner.
Then it was time to go. Cathy turned around before running back home.
”I’ve definitely got to come back here.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Hm... okay. So basically, this happened to me. This exact scene. And I felt I needed to write it out. I'm odd, I know.Kudos to this girl for editing. I couldn't be bothered so she kindly did it for me. Thank you <3.