the threads in her head

Phone Call-

They were on the phone.

"Shall I meet you?" he asked. The night was dark, the wind strong. He walked to the window. Rain drops plummeted down, fat and heavy, before splashing into tiny sprays when they met the ground. The occasional car went by, wheels grinding into puddles at high-speed, sending drops of water flying - a different kind of splash.

She replied. "No..."

There was silence. She heard his breathing. It was raining. It was cold. She gave a slight shiver, the whole of her body twisting suddenly in an reflex action she had no control over. It was cold, from head to toes. She needed her jacket. No... her blanket would be better. That could cover her feet too. She stood up and went to her room to get it. The door creaked a little. She winced. She went in. The dim light from the living room highlighted the room in greyish colours and shadows. She found her blanket. It laid there, a pile of light grey. She opened the door wider to get in. The light shone onto the blanket and showed it to be silver. She took it with her free hand - the other was cradling the phone.

He heard the creaking, but stayed quiet. What could he say? His invitation was turned down. He felt crushed. He wondered why. He was too proud to ask. He only stayed silent. The rain became heavier.

She went out of the room. He was still quiet, and only his breathing could be heard. She went to the sofa and huddled herself up. It was a long silence, she felt.

"I'm sorry..." she ventured. "But, but I hardly think I can take it any longer. Do you know the things they say? How they make you out like a monster. Some great awful beast. A slithering serpent. Ah ah! They're not helping. You're not helping. I dare not see you. No, not because I'm afraid I'll see a monster. That still seems far from reality. I'm afraid of seeing a shell, a fraction of the person I thought I know, but is now someone I don't. Hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, bitter smile and laugher. What kind of wrathful fire burns beneath!"

It was still silence on the other end. She felt sapped, drained.

"You had better go sleep," he said, at long last.

The words seemed curt; the pain unbearable. But she was too tired to argue.