I pass through the front door silently and click it locked behind myself. I head to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water I don't even bother to read the note on the dinner table. I know what it will say, my mother's hollow apologies of extra work. And my father is probably out at Georges' hockey game. I down the glass and head to my room. Unlike most of the house my room is very dark. I flop onto my bed. It is neat and for the first time in months made. In fact most of my room is neat. I cleaned it up before leaving for Isabelle's barn. I thought that if I was going to leave my family I should at least clean up before I left. This thought; this memory. It reminds me of the happenings of the day, and of why my legs are aching. I think back to the events of the barn and they replay through my defective mind. The strongest memory is that of Isabelle; my friend, pulling the rope from my neck and supporting my weight as we went down the ladder. Then we collapse and I cry. Everything else blurs through my mind. The running, I can feel the pounding of my feet and heart. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to block everything out. This works mildly. But mildly is better than not at all. I let myself relax and my muscles loosen themselves. I'm drifting off into a tranquil slumber, caught between sleeping and waking. I hear a knock at the door but don't bother getting up. "Delilah?"
"Yeah,"
"Dinners up." I hear my father's footsteps recede. And I decide to get up to have dinner. I'm halfway down the hall when I remember my neck. I haven't seen it yet but Isabelle had mentioned that it had already gone purple. And that was just minutes after the rope being pulled from it. By now the bruise is probably worse. I consider skipping dinner but decide its best not to. I go back into my room and pull out a scarf. Good thing it is autumn or else it would be suspicious for me to be wearing a scarf indoors. Bruise covered, I leave my room and head down the hall.
I sit silently through the event of our take-away dinner. Dad and George tell me about the game and I nod, smile and mutter a 'congrats on the win'
After dinner I have another glass of water and go to the lounge where I decide to switch the telly on even though I know that I won't end up watching it. I flick vaguely through the channels and stop on one of the programs which I used to like to watch. Before the joy of watching T.V. was lost out to depression that is. I see some of the old characters and new ones whose names I don't even know. I watch the actors and actresses run about winging and pining as characters often do on these dramatic shows. My brother comes into the room and changes the channel. "Hey, I was watching that." I let out the feeble complaint. Ages ago George's interference in my favourite program would result in an epic battle over the remote which often resulted in me calling in Mum or Dad. But instead I smile at George poking his tongue out at me and leave the lounge. George is one of those 'normal people' even more so, because he is still so young. He hasn't yet learnt of the troubles of the world. He is pure and untouchable. So I let him watch his favourite television show instead of me. At least he has a favourite television show.
I'm in my room now I take off the scarf and toss it to the end of my bed. It was beginning to itch and get annoying. Then I take my jacket and shirt off in a simple fluid motion. They join the pile at the end of my bed. Now I'm just wearing my trousers and under shirt. Physically, emotionally, I was tired. But when I crawled under my bed covers to prepare for the night's sleep I found that I couldn't. My mind wouldn't shut down. So I lie in bed flat on my stomach staring at my window. I had forgotten to close the curtains. I was tempted to shut them. Just as something to do. But then I see a face in the window. My heart jumps. My friend taps the window gesturing to the locks. Asking me to open them. I get up and I unlock them. Why? You may ask. Well the answer is quiet mad really. I thought that perhaps I had fallen asleep. It wouldn't be the first time that I'd had a dream of reality and sleep melding together. My friend opens the window and jumps in. She may not be much of a runner but you shouldn't undermine her strength. She's wearing dark jeans a black top and a black coat with soft fur in and around the hood. Something about that jacket reminds me of something. How did Isabelle afford a coat like that? I ask myself. For it was a very expensive looking coat. My friend is saying something. Something about the window and something about her being sorry. But I was not paying attention. I take a step closer and reach out. My friend has stopped talking now and I hear my name uttered questionably by her voice. My hand comes into contact with the fabric and I Stroke the soft grey fur which is tinged with black. Then I realise what this coat reminds me of. I had bought it for Isabelle's birthday. Only just earlier this year.
" I-I bought you this. Didn't I?"
The question catches my friend off guard. "Yes. For my birthday."
I turn around and press my back to Isabelle. Then I take both sides of the soft coat and wrap it around me. It is warm and I snuggle deep into the coat. Isabelle adds her own warmth as she wraps her arms around me. For the first times in months I feel safe and secure.
"Thank-you for saving me." I whisper.
I feel Isabelle laugh behind me more than hearing it. "No problem." She whispers back to me through the darkness.
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