Expectations

• Cleo Heywood, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2018

“I know you’ll be there. You’re always the centre of the party.” Her mouth closes and twists upward, teeth baring, cheeks bulging. I cannot see her eyes and yet I can feel them trained on me, waiting. For what? My body realises before my mind does.
“For sure, see you there,” My mouth moves into the same expression hers took. Did I give it permission to do that? I can't seem to remember. She appears to dissipate as the blackness behind takes over and she is gone. I am once again alone, finally feeling at home.
I sink into the soft warm comfort of my bed, allowing myself to relax. Providing a small clearing from the surrounding dark, it floats here. Pillows and blankets and warmth seems to radiate off of it. I created this as a sanctuary from the darkness. Somewhere where I can be comfortable and feel safe. I have lived here for a long time and I’ve come to understand that there is no leaving. They trick you into thinking there is, that you can leave anytime. That when your done with it all you can just waltz out. But when it comes time to go, there is nowhere to escape to. The darkness spreads infinitely out into the distance, and I am still trapped. Or maybe I’m just scared of leaving. Scared of the unknown, that it could be worse than this purgatory. Or better. At least here I know what to expect.
I cannot remember when it started but I'm sure it was just an innocent question, “Come play with me,” or “This dress is perfect for you,”. The first brick set to build a wall stops nothing, you could easily just push it out your way but is there really even a point? What can it do? Then it builds. Another brick added, and another, another. Now it stops everything. It stops becoming a brick in the way, it becomes a wall, towering high above you, encircling you, and eventually you realise it’s trapping you. It blocks out any light and wraps a blanket of darkness around you, suffocating you. Then when you think it's done, the darkness speaks. Small whispers here and there, latching onto you and dragging you down. And just like the bricks they build and build until you realise you really are drowning. Drowning in a sea of words. There's no need to wonder what this could be, no I’ve figured that one out for myself. After all, the expectations I put on myself always have been my worst downfall.