1st Oct 3am
Dear Diary,
Slumped down in the patch of moonlight that shone through the window I started to cry. The shadow of the bars taunted me, highlighting my predictament. Why had I had chosen this place to hide? And why was the only place intact in this town a jail? A trap? One that I had ran straight into.
I needed to wake up again. Get out of here but my mind refused to listen as it conjured up more and more dream-like sequences to trap me here. I tried tapping my heels together with the declaration “I want to go home” but my trainers were no ruby slippers and somehow I had lost one of them. It rolled away towards the far corner when I jumped to scrabble up the wall to pull on to the aging bars. Despite their rusty appearance, they refused to budge. My foot was icy cold. I longed to rescue my shoe but the squeak and movement made me freeze. Beady eyes reminded me not to venture too far. We had formed a truce of some sort. As long as I stay in my patch of light, the rat would stay in the shadows.
My mum’s voice from the other night looped in my mind.
“Go home to your father, go home”
My red, raw hands proved I had tried. I had banged to be released, past caring about the dangers outside, frantically pulled and pushed on the lock refused to move. Even tried to dig my way out to no avail.
Google’s advice to take control, change your dream is a load of crap. Wishful thinking, begging the universe does nothing. Once there, wherever there is , I am trapped.
The deep groans and creaks outside picked up again. The floor beneath me rumbled while the wall behind me trembled. A large crack appeared in the opposite wall. The alarmed rat and friends scurried deeper into the darkness as the ground lifted up: a thick, gnarly root snaked its way in. Closer and closer. Ivy crept in under the door, through any gaps of the building and twined itself to the window bars. I sat mesmerised as nature began to reclaim the building. Until fear kicked in. What would it do to me? I didn’t want to be here to find out.
I wanted my Mum. Or Mrs M. I grasped my necklace, my only connection with Mum.
I woke up strewn across my bed. One shoe on and one off. As I type this my fingers sting and my hands burn. My nails are ragged and torn.
WTF is going on?
I am on high alert, I can feel adrenaline pump through my body, making me jump at every noise. The wind outside, the snore from HIS room, creak of houses pipes and the rustle near my bin. A crackle of paper. A scuttle of feet.
Curling up in a tight ball, I ask again WTF is happening to me?
Love Amber x