I’ve spent all evening and the rest of the night tucking myself into kitchen cabinets and the drawers of my bedside table. Seeing how small I could make myself, hysterically searching for the perfect place to hide. Fear lives in my heartbeat, jump scaring me with every obnoxious thud slamming against my chest wall. I’m breaking blood vessels as I fill the balloons in my chest with as much air as will fit in the minutes I spend restricting my lungs from leaking. For God’s sake I can’t have my breath be the thing that gives me away. Did you hear that? Please tell me that that was just the sound of my next door neighbor’s hammer as he works on his renovations. I know she’s coming. Why else would my palms be sweating as much as they are? I can feel her coming. At this point I’ve glued the side view mirror of my defeated car to my collarbone. This way I can stop wishing for eyes to grow out of the back of my head and still be prepared for the dagger seeking salvation in my spine. I know she’s armed with one. Lifting the sleeve of my shirt up to you would reveal a graveyard of her failed attempts. Finding myself lucky enough to know better than to leave my six unattended for too long. I dizzy myself with the swivel I keep my head on. Trying to stay prepared for the unavoidable ambush. It’s been what feels like years since I’ve had a proper night of rest. Only a fool would let their guard down for so long. The lack of rest and digest my nervous system craves to shift into is starting to take hold of me. I can’t tell if it’s the sleep deprivation painting this illusion or if there really are extra arms growing from inside of me. Extending hungry hands towards my throat as if to tell me I must be the sacrifice made for that feeling of safety I have grown hysterical fighting for. There is only so much fight left within me. I can feel my body betray me as it resists my persistence and leans into the sweet relief of surrender. The hands grip tighter and tighter and I feel a smile spread across my now blue face. The front door slams shut in the same way it does Monday through Friday at 5pm, alerting me that my honey is home. This timely interruption snaps me out of the surrender I seemed to give my morality away to and I quickly grab the mask I use to spare people the inconvenience of full disclosure. I often wonder if they still take notice of the heartbeat orchestrating the percussion section behind my well fitting mask. Even with my honey home, I know that I can’t relax. The She I am hiding from seems to only be visible to me. Time and time again I have been called crazy and have been left to deal with the thrashing and screaming that is triggered by her presence. I know now that I am alone in this ongoing battle. I try to get through dinner while simultaneously monitoring my surroundings and keeping the illusion that everything is hunky dory alive. I finally excuse myself to the bathroom to clean up the nervous sweat that is puddling behind the mask. Before I know it I am eyes locked with the one I commit to running from. For She always seems to find me in the mirror. -KN
