Winter Sucks. I hate Winter.
Good Thing it’s summer then.
It’s a lovely morning. Believe me, that sunshine feels like the very light of heaven had somehow fought its way out, and had decided that it would give Earth a little slice of paradise. It feels perfect.
As I walk into the park I clutch Joe’s birthday gift anxiously, hoping with all my heart that he won’t hate it. My eyes barely open in terror, I traipse over to him. My big brother’s eyes light up. Perfect.
The night is alive with fireworks tonight- the clear summer air brushes over my face and I beam straight back , trying to let Mother Earth know I like it. Let there be light- and breeze and warmth. Could this get any more perfect?
I’m home now. There’s a new chart show on on MTV- Miley Cyrus turned up dressed as a carrot- and it’s dark. I’m snuggled up, warm, safe, happy. This day has been perfect. I check my watch- fifteen minutes left- will something happen? Never. This day’s too perfect.
Or is it? That little whisper in my mind is here. That whisper, everywhere and nowhere, constantly in the corner of my eye, constantly there, but I never noticed it.
It’s on my TV. Oh My God. It’s speaking now. Nothing’s Perfect. Nothing’s Perfect. NOTHING’S PERFECT!
Did you really think this would work, child?
It’s a man’s voice, sounding a bit like Voldemort. Funny how, when I’m about to die, I think of Harry Potter. Then Lemony Snicket. Peter Rabbit will take care of me if I think of him- right? I’m going mad. I’m having a breakdown. I’m asleep, because my door should not have shut. My windows should not have exploded inwards. My left arm should not be oozing blood in the shape of letters.
God Help me. I check my watch again. How can it possibly be that only three minutes have passed? I feel as though I’ve spent a thousand eternities in this blazing hell, this horrid torture. Help Me God. Please. I’m only 14. What did I do? I promise I’ll be good. Get me out. GET ME OUT!
Did You really think this was the perfect day?
That voice kills me slowly from inside. That merciless tone drapes me in a cloak of cold, of pain, of fear. Five to midnight. I wonder if it ends at midnight.I hope it does. Midnight.
Well Done, my girl. It does end at midnight. Too bad you wont be alive to see it.
Pain rips through me, breaking me up from inside, but I don’t care. I’m floating now, in the endless sea. The clock strikes midnight and I rock myself to sleep.
“Katie, it’s Joe.”
“Can you hear me?”
I can hear him. I’m lying cold on the floor, but I can hear him. I have power now. And I know just how to use it.