#NaNoWriMo 2017: Day Twenty

High Dependency

The previous chapters can be found here: https://medium.com/high-dependency

Chapter Twenty

Am I awake? Is it morning? Oh God it’s light, damn it.

I can’t possibly be awake. I don’t want to be awake. Damn it I was having a really nice dream. What was I dreaming about? I should try to remember that dream.

I’m going to try to get back to sleep. I’ll keep my eyes closed. Don’t look at the clock. Try not to think too much. That’s right, settle down; don’t get yourself worked up or you’ll never get back to sleep.

I should get up. It’s probably really late. I bet it’s nearly lunchtime already. I shouldn’t spend so much time in bed. What’s wrong with me? Why am I so lazy?

What time did I fall asleep? I know that I tried to stop reading at midnight but my mind wouldn’t stop. I think it was 2am when I gave up and started reading again. I so want to write my journal. I have to get these thoughts down on paper. I can’t write anything down though. It’s all evidence that could be used against me.

It was hopeless trying to sleep. It must’ve been past 3am by the time I finally started to feel relaxed. I guess I’m allowed to catch up on some sleep now.

I should get up and have some breakfast. If I force myself to get up and eat, then it’ll be easier to get up tomorrow. I need to get into a routine. A routine will improve things — I’ll be back on a normal schedule. I should get up and have breakfast. But it’s nearly lunchtime. I can’t eat so close to lunchtime. I might as well stay in bed. I’m a bit hungry but I can’t have two meals so close together; I might as well have a big lunch. Dammit I’m quite hungry actually now I’ve thought about it. I don’t need the calories though — I haven’t been getting any exercise.

I don’t want to get up. I can’t face the day. I don’t want it to be daytime. I hope it’s earlier than I think it is. I don’t want to look at my watch. I don’t want to know what time it is. I bet it’s later than I think. I always wake up at around 9am, don’t I? So what time does that make it? It’s got to be around 11am. God damn that’s close to midday, which is practically lunchtime. I’ve wasted the day. Another day.

Oh it’s raining. Brilliant. I’m so relieved and happy. Oh the sound of those raindrops is amazing. That is so relaxing. That’s the best sound in the world. I’m going to snuggle up under this duvet and have a cosy day warm and dry in here and nobody can say it was a waste. I love the rain.

How long was I asleep for? Oh man that was a lovely snooze. Why do I always sleep so much better in the mornings than I do at night? What have we even got to get up early for anyway? Why are we always rushing around? Why is life so stressful? Why am I so miserable? Why am I even alive?

Oh God it must be so late now. If I woke up and fell back to sleep then it must be really really late now. I wonder if it’s gone 2pm. I’ve missed lunch. Strange, I’m not really as hungry as I was.

I’m going to sneak a peek at my watch.

11:45am. That’s the right side of midday. That’s amazing news. That’s the best thing that’s happened all day. Amazing. I thought it was so much later. I’ve still got half the day.

I don’t want half the day. I don’t want any of the day.

I could get up, have brunch and do something productive. There’s so much I should be doing. I should find out what the others are doing and see if I can help.

I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to see the others. Oh God I hope nobody comes knocking on my door. Please leave me alone. I don’t want people to know I’m still in here sleeping. I hope they think I got up and went somewhere. I hope they think I’m away. I hope they’ve forgotten I’m here.

Please please please don’t let anybody come and knock on my door and ask me if I want any lunch. Please please please don’t let anybody discover I’m still in bed. It’s so fucking shit that I’m so lazy and I can’t get up. I’m so fucking lazy.

No.

No. I’m not lazy. I can’t face it. I can’t face the pressure. I can’t face the day. I can’t take it any more.

How long’s it been? How long have I been like this? Surely they’re worried about me? Surely they’re pissed off that I’m so withdrawn?

What do you do anymore? What do you contribute? Everybody’s talking about you. They must wonder. They must wonder what the police are investigating.

I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know.

Don’t the police realise how awful this is, to have this investigation hanging over me? They must realise. Perhaps that’s their tactic — they’re drawing things out so that I crack and I’ll confess to anything. Do they catch innocent ones as well as guilty ones, simply because nobody can take this psychological torture? What are they investigating? What can they possibly find out that they don’t already know? Why can’t they put me out of my misery?

I’ve got no control over this. Put it out of my mind. Think about something else.

You’ve given your statement. There’s nothing more to say.

There’s nothing more you can do.

It’s in the lap of the gods.

Think about something else.

I’ve been thinking about this since I woke up, haven’t I?

Why is this eating away at me? I know I’m innocent. Why do I feel guilty?

Think about something else.

That whole experience was designed to make me feel guilty. The handcuffs. The police station. The cell. The photographs. The fingerprints. The interview. The whole thing made me feel like I was guilty. It’s still hanging over me. Why don’t they just put me out of my misery?

What must the others think?

I need to tell them something.

I need to talk about it.

No. I shouldn’t talk about it.

They won’t understand. They’ll leap to the wrong conclusions.

I need to talk to somebody about this.

I can’t talk to anybody about this. Just to be under investigation is bad enough. People will see me in a different light.

I’m innocent. This is unjust. I shouldn’t be suffering in silence like this.

Suspicion is a terrible thing. Would I have done it? Could I have done it? Do I remember things correctly?

That’s what they want you to think. They want you to feel guilty. They want you to doubt yourself.

Are these my memories or are they from the interview? Which are my memories and which are the false ones? I can remember what the detectives said. I can picture what they said. That’s not what happened though. That’s not what I remember. But now it’s what I remember. I’m confused.

You’ve given your statement, calm down.

Your memory is getting muddled up.

You’ve been through a lot of stress.

You’re getting confused.

You’re depressed.

Oh God I want to die though. I can’t take this any more. I’ve given a true account of what happened and now I just want it to be over but it isn’t. It’s never going to be over. I’ve given my statement and now I want to be dead. Everyone can figure it out when I’m gone. I don’t care what anybody thinks.

Justice will prevail. Wrongful convictions are a rare thing in this country.

The suspicion though. The suspicion.

Nobody can find out about this.

I can never talk about this.

Nobody can know.

Perhaps they already know.

Mr. Firman has contacts. One phone call and I’m sure he’d be able to find out. If I was Mrs. Firman I’d want to know. If I had a child I’d want to know.

Maybe I should discuss this. Maybe I should tell people. I so want to tell people. I so want to share this.

No.

Can’t share this. To be under suspicion is a terrible thing. People will look at you differently. People will attempt to make their own judgement. People will judge everything you say and everything you do. You’ll be under even more scrutiny.

This is exhausting and I want it to end.

I wish it would end.

What time is it now?

12:15pm. Fuck.

Maybe I can sleep all day and sleep all night. I don’t want to be conscious.

I’m going to lie awake tonight if I sleep now. I need to be awake.

I don’t want to be awake. I don’t want to be alive.

Maybe you deserve this. Maybe you can’t sleep because you need to suffer. Maybe you deserve this punishment.

How do they sleep at night? How do they live with themselves? How do they deal with their guilt? Do they know what they’ve done? Do they know what they’re doing? Do they know the suffering they’re inflicting? Do they know the damage they’ve caused?

The whole world is populated with fucked up damaged people doing dreadful things to each other. Pain is perpetuated for all eternity. We fuck up our children, who in turn fuck up their children. How does it end? Does it ever end?

I want just want it to end. I want everything to end.

Oh that rain is really heavy. God it’s absolutely chucking it down.

I’m not even hungry.

I’m just going to stay in bed all day. It’s raining so it’s OK.

I hope it goes dark soon.

If I can make it until it goes dark then I’ll relax.

I wish it would go dark.

How would I even do it anway?

Poison? Where would I get it? Would it be painful? It might not kill me, it might just make me really sick.

Pills? That would be nice. I’d love to just fall asleep and not wake up.

Too easy. I want people to see the pain I’m in. I want to stab myself in the neck. I want people to see the blood. I want to stand in front of my tormentors and make them see the pain they’ve inflicted on me. I want them to see my reaction to their persecution. I want them to see the consequences of their actions.

Coward.

Running away.

This commune is just running away.

I’m a drop out. I’m a loser.

No I’m not. That’s exactly what I’m not. I’ve always stood up for what I’ve believed in. I’ve always protested when others would meekly comply.

This.

This was the mistake, coming here.

I backed down and chose the quiet life.

I showed some weakness.

What am I doing, cowering in fear, in a shack in a muddy field?

They’ve won.

I’ll show them.

I’ll slit my own throat in front of them. I’ll set myself on fire.

Shit somebody’s coming.

Oh shit please don’t knock.

Shit please leave me alone.

“Hey Laken. You haven’t eaten anything all day. It’s 3pm. I brought you a snack” said Arno.

“Oh that’s amazing, Arno. Thank you so much. I was just getting up. I overslept” Laken said from her bed, pretending to have just woken up.

“Well it’s a shitty day. You haven’t missed much. I think you were in the right place. I’m just going to leave this here and not traipse too much mud in” said Arno, putting a mug of soup down near the front door. “Drink up before it gets cold”

The next chapter can be found here: https://medium.com/high-dependency