Friday, 17 May 2013
You have no idea how I feel! Go away!
But Hayden didn’t hear. How could he hear if the words were not spoken?
Robyn could hear the muted voices downstairs and a soft lullaby soothing the cries of a newborn baby girl. She heard many different voices floating through her home and many, many feet padding gently up and down her stairs. She was aware of the kindness they were all trying to show. She appreciated the cups of tea, the scented candle, the single rose, but she knew that they were not aware how much she appreciated them.
At night she tossed and turned. She flung her arms around Hayden then violently pushed him away. She slept, dreamlessly, only to wake in a quiet, darkened room, tired.
Robyn stretched her arms above her head and touched the red velvet headboard with fingertips which recoiled, as if they had eyes that recreated the moment of pain, blood.
No-one understood. Moments of recollection, when her lips moved to explain the pain or ask for help, melted like ice in hot coffee, and no-one was there to see her eyes beg for contact – touch me!
Robyn tried desperately to grab hold of those lucid moments; to freeze them until Hayden knelt next to her, with tears of deep, deep love soaking his shirt. She needed to melt her moments in his tears, she needed to touch his face.
The blackbird chirped, indifferent to human pain. The buses, lorries, and cars all swished beneath the window undisturbed by the pain behind closed curtains. Why should they care? Who were they to care?
Robyn took a deep breath. The baby girl cried. The voices grew louder. The sirens faded.
(Writing Prompts http://creativewriting.ie/writing-prompts/)
Posted by Rose at 07:19