Numbness

• Jemma Grice, Grade 11, Kincumber High School -
• Short Story
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Write Along 2018' competition

They burrowed deep into my flesh, powered by pulling on the strings of my fear as if my audible screams ceased to exist. His pristine white teeth, became soaked in red luscious layer of pain, drawn from the irreversible hole in my heart. Refusing to succumb to the aching, I remained transfixed on his eyes. Those damn eyes.  They were as rich as the earths soil, stained with the color of hot chocolate on a cold winters night that wraps around you like a blanket; engulfing you in its warmth. Releasing my mind from his hypnotic eyes, I search for remorse, begging my dog to release his firm grasp, for what is the point in trying to destroy something that is already broken?

From the moment my doomed soul was drawn from the warmth of my mothers womb, I've been accompanied by this relentless dog. At first a quiet presence. But when I approached age four, the urge for attention overwhelmed him, forcing him to nibble on my sweet succulent flesh for the first time. He bit me because I looked at him. Because I knew he was there. Through dancing on the layers of distraught that flooded my mind, he managed to encase my life in a concrete layer of worry. Reality was just a fragment overwhelmed by agony as he continued to nip at my ankles, eventually bleeding me dry.

As teenage years morphed from the future into present, the nibbles escalated into life threatening attacks. He would throw himself on me, breathing pants of hot breath and saliva, drowning me as his teeth skimmed the fine layer of skin that encased my throat. By fifteen, my body was immersed in his bites, the jagged scars reminding me of how ugly I was.

At least he was reliable. Never failing to disappear when needed most. Never failing to appear when unwanted. 16 years old and no understanding of physical distance, my soul was encased within a dead body. Numbness. From the immense infusion of agony, almost on a daily basis, to the incapability of feeling anything at all. I promised that the next bite, would be the last.


There comes a day where I’m no longer incapable of walking my dog, because I see others walking theirs too. I am not the only owner of a disobedient dog, he is not the only one who bites. Although his barks may continue to evoke unwanted fear, now comes a time where he sleeps peacefully too. Some people aren’t good for him, I’ve learned to recognize this and avoid them. The scars heal quicker within each time we go for a walk, for a tired dog cannot be bothered to bark. There’s people whom didn’t survive there dogs, sometimes it consumes too much of you, but expressing the pain in art or stories helps immensely. I understand my dog, and others do too, especially since I have given him a name, I call him anxiety.