Tingle
Ada
"Can't I ever just get a break in this house?!" I slammed my door and fell on top of my bed. My pounding brain felt like a million suns were crashing into each other, creating the ultimate migraine. I couldn't take any more of this intense awkwardness between my parents. I didn't understand any of it; they used to be so close. Now it seemed like everyone was drifting apart.
I sat up on my bed, listening to my mom sniffle outside my door, calling my name. I didn't-- couldn't respond to her cries. Nobody did me any good in the first place, especially my mother. Yeah, moms were supposed to be nurturing. And she was, she just did it wrong. Other kid's moms dropped them off at concerts and didn't care if they got stoned. My mom was such a worry-wart; she wouldn't let me go anywhere! I couldn't do anything, either.
At least nobody knew my secret stash of pills under my bed. I got off and squatted toward the ground, lifting my mattress while I was at it. Yes, I thought to myself as I took the plastic bag out from underneath the sheets, the comforter and the mattress itself. Perfect.
Slowly I stood up, turning around to make sure my door was locked and the key was on the stereo next to the door. Good, everything was in place. I turned back around and looked inside my bad of goodies. White pills, pink pills, blue pills... pills I didn't even know what they were. All would get me away for a little while, which was the best part of having this secret stash.
Opening the bag, I got a good whiff of yuck. What was the smell? Whatever it was, it was disgusting. I concluded that Gertrude had gotten into my room somehow and farted all over my bed. It seemed plausible.
I took out five different coloured pills and swallowed them all at once. A few minutes later, I started to feel extremely tired and off-balance. Thank God, it was time to leave the world for a bit. I stuffed my bag under the mattress again and fell back on top of it. It was about eight at night, so they wouldn't get very suspicious if I fell asleep this early. Sometimes it was normal anyway.
Only a few moments later I drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep. Nothing could bother me while I was on all these pills, especially while I was sleeping. Not even my dreams dared to enter my mind. All was peaceful.
*****
I awoke to the sounds of sirens and to the smell of heavy smoke. I couldn't move or see very well, but I managed to see a long shred of beautiful light pass through my room. I couldn't find my door, or my key. Actually I couldn't find most of my things. They all seemed to be the pretty colour of the light. Orange.
Even though I was completely stoned, though, something clicked in my brain. Fire. Oh, shit. Of course this had to happen to me right after I decided to "get away". How could I get away with a fucking fire in my room?
I stumbled out of bed, and fell to the floor. I couldn't get up, so I decided just to crawl. I bumped into a lot of things, mostly walls, and I heard shattering noises and screaming. Was there someone else in the house? I hoped it wasn't my mom, no matter how retarded I thought she was. She was still my mom.
Somebody was shouting, but I couldn't tell who it was. All the rooms I crawled through were spinning, yelling at me to push forward. What the fuck was going on?
There was movement to my right. Or was it my left? I racked my brain to tell me what was left and what was right but I gave up. It was too difficult for me to remember while I was high. Anyway, the movement was real movement. How I could tell it was real, I would never know. Maybe it was my crisis senses.
But whoever it was saw me and decided to pick me up. I fell limp in their arms as they carried me to an even worse place: the outside world. I would rather have burned to death in my own house, stoned as hell. But I guess that was my own fantasy.
I still couldn't tell what was going on, but I felt the light shed upon me like a snake shedding skin. It burned more than the fire. I heard loud cries all over; it was killing my brain. I couldn't live through this shit anymore.
I fell out of my savior's arms and tried to stand. It was working this time, but my head started hurting even more than it did when I was crawling. But I wanted to stand; I didn't want people to see me as a stoned fuck up. Even though it's what I was.
I sat up on my bed, listening to my mom sniffle outside my door, calling my name. I didn't-- couldn't respond to her cries. Nobody did me any good in the first place, especially my mother. Yeah, moms were supposed to be nurturing. And she was, she just did it wrong. Other kid's moms dropped them off at concerts and didn't care if they got stoned. My mom was such a worry-wart; she wouldn't let me go anywhere! I couldn't do anything, either.
At least nobody knew my secret stash of pills under my bed. I got off and squatted toward the ground, lifting my mattress while I was at it. Yes, I thought to myself as I took the plastic bag out from underneath the sheets, the comforter and the mattress itself. Perfect.
Slowly I stood up, turning around to make sure my door was locked and the key was on the stereo next to the door. Good, everything was in place. I turned back around and looked inside my bad of goodies. White pills, pink pills, blue pills... pills I didn't even know what they were. All would get me away for a little while, which was the best part of having this secret stash.
Opening the bag, I got a good whiff of yuck. What was the smell? Whatever it was, it was disgusting. I concluded that Gertrude had gotten into my room somehow and farted all over my bed. It seemed plausible.
I took out five different coloured pills and swallowed them all at once. A few minutes later, I started to feel extremely tired and off-balance. Thank God, it was time to leave the world for a bit. I stuffed my bag under the mattress again and fell back on top of it. It was about eight at night, so they wouldn't get very suspicious if I fell asleep this early. Sometimes it was normal anyway.
Only a few moments later I drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep. Nothing could bother me while I was on all these pills, especially while I was sleeping. Not even my dreams dared to enter my mind. All was peaceful.
*****
I awoke to the sounds of sirens and to the smell of heavy smoke. I couldn't move or see very well, but I managed to see a long shred of beautiful light pass through my room. I couldn't find my door, or my key. Actually I couldn't find most of my things. They all seemed to be the pretty colour of the light. Orange.
Even though I was completely stoned, though, something clicked in my brain. Fire. Oh, shit. Of course this had to happen to me right after I decided to "get away". How could I get away with a fucking fire in my room?
I stumbled out of bed, and fell to the floor. I couldn't get up, so I decided just to crawl. I bumped into a lot of things, mostly walls, and I heard shattering noises and screaming. Was there someone else in the house? I hoped it wasn't my mom, no matter how retarded I thought she was. She was still my mom.
Somebody was shouting, but I couldn't tell who it was. All the rooms I crawled through were spinning, yelling at me to push forward. What the fuck was going on?
There was movement to my right. Or was it my left? I racked my brain to tell me what was left and what was right but I gave up. It was too difficult for me to remember while I was high. Anyway, the movement was real movement. How I could tell it was real, I would never know. Maybe it was my crisis senses.
But whoever it was saw me and decided to pick me up. I fell limp in their arms as they carried me to an even worse place: the outside world. I would rather have burned to death in my own house, stoned as hell. But I guess that was my own fantasy.
I still couldn't tell what was going on, but I felt the light shed upon me like a snake shedding skin. It burned more than the fire. I heard loud cries all over; it was killing my brain. I couldn't live through this shit anymore.
I fell out of my savior's arms and tried to stand. It was working this time, but my head started hurting even more than it did when I was crawling. But I wanted to stand; I didn't want people to see me as a stoned fuck up. Even though it's what I was.
♠ ♠ ♠
Word count: 848