Whitter

80% Illusion
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2002-10-08 20:28:06 (UTC)

Longing..

Sarah woke gasping for air. The reality of her nightmare
was all too
frightning. She absently brushed her hair from her face and
tried to regain
control of her breathing. You have to stop this. She
thought to herself.
You’re letting him control your life and he’s no where near
you. You must
control yourself.

She woke from nightmares almost everyday. Her dreams were
rarely
pleasent, always dreams of the past. She rubbed her face
and walked across
the cold floor to the bathroom.

She sighed as she tried to stop the rusting faucet from
leaking. She saw her
tired-looking face in the reflection of the mirror above
the sink. The
repeatative noise of the water colliding with the stained
porcellin invaded
her thoughts, and it made her agitated. The janitor was
supposed to come
and fix the leak three weeks ago, but obviosly had
forgotten. Giving up,
she got dressed and grabbing her red notebook of blank
paper from the
table in the kitchen, she went outside to the park.

The large door at the entrance of the apartment building
made a sharp click
each time it closed as Sarah went out. She had to resist a
wince everytime
the lock latched tight, it was a sound that would give a
tic to anyone who
had to listen to it every day. She jumped slightly when it
clanged shut, she
didn’t think she would ever stop jumping at the sudden
latch of the lock.
Though it sounded a bit different, it still brought up
memories; it seemed
she would always be reminded.


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