Shadows creep from every corner of my bedroom to surround me, suffocate me. I stare at the phone sitting on my end table. A black screen stares back, empty. Empty, just like I am. The only thing inside me right now is a racing heart and a river of adrenaline. I know if that black screen lights up it will only race faster, but I long for it. Any sign from across the void that everything might be okay.
Maybe I should reach out again? It’s been a few hours after all, maybe something has changed? The part of my brain that isn’t coursing with adrenaline shuts that idea down immediately. “Don’t be stupid, they’ll answer when they have time.” I say to myself, fingers nervously tapping against my leg.
I should read, I should go to the gym, go on a walk, anything but sitting and staring at that stupid little piece of technology that currently holds all my emotions entrapped in jaws of steel that somehow still lets my mind run wild. I’d call myself crazy but my therapist says I’m only human. Despite this I don’t feel human, sitting alone in a dark room with the windows covered, blind to the world. My home is silent aside from the crunching of kibble; apparently one of the cat’s is having lunch beneath the loft. Distracted for a moment, light bursts into the room. I rush to pick up my phone, dropping it in the process. No cracks in the screen fortunately. I read the name. And it’s just my best friend. I let the phone turn its own screen off.
The dark once again welcomes me into its open arms. My heart continues trying to sprint from my chest, my stomach becomes nauseous and I lay back, covering my face with the crook of my elbow. I hate throwing up. I will not throw up. She can’t have that much power over me can she? She can, but that’s okay. I try to think of other things. It doesn’t work, dread has made my head and heart its home. Dread of some unknown future that approaches second by second. Something thumps onto the bed beside me, the sound of purring announcing its presence. A head bumps into my arm, and I reach down to pet my assailant. It’s half hearted, but the soft fur and purring does relax me for a bit. However with my eyes open I see the room light up again, and I repeat the dance. Rushing to check my personal Pandora’s box, disappointment, despair, no control. The mental downward spiral goes on, as hope tries to keep the dark at bay.
Hours pass, or at least it feels like hours. Time slows down and speeds up with the lighting up of that phone screen. My legs cramp, and I straighten them out to lay on my side, simply staring at the phone. Finally it lights up with the name I’ve been waiting for.
Shit. I stare at the name on the screen, fingers trembling. I enter my passcode incorrectly twice before finally getting the phone to unlock. I read the text, slowly taking in every word. I reread it, then again. Once more just to be certain I haven’t missed anything. With each read through the dread leaves, and my heart stops the staccato beat that it’s been maintaining for however long. I take a deep breath, and with it a sense of calm comes back into my body.
“She made it. She’s going to be okay.” I grab Whiskers in a hug, and for the first time today I get up off of my bed. Setting him back down, I tap my lamp twice, lighting up the dark room. Carefully stepping over the pile of clothes on the floor that Fridge is sleeping on, I go to my window, and push the curtain to the side. It’s dark out. I’ve been stuck in bed since I woke up nearly fourteen hours ago, trapped in my own head. Time flies by when you’re having a meltdown. The headache I didn’t know I had rushes into the forefront of my mind. Pulsing blood vessels throb in my forehead and the sides of my neck are still tightened from the anxiety of the day. I walk over to my dresser, on the oak sits a picture. In it I’m smiling hugging a woman, probably in her early thirties, with a multicolored scarf hiding her bald head. I feel myself smile, knowing that her surgery went well and they got the tumor. Exhaustion and hunger rolls over me, the adrenaline rush done and my body seeking something else to keep it running. Finding nothing, I fling myself back into bed, for food can wait for another day.