Story about fear

     I have to. All I have to do is open the door, step outside, and walk a few meters. But I remain in my seat thinking of excuses for why I don’t necessarily have to. I have loads of works to do and they will keep me busy all through the night. My place is so warm and I know that outside will be cold as hell and I do not have that much of clothes on. I will freeze to death or at least, catch a cold. My legs are sore and I have a headache. Walking will only make them worse. Well, now I have to stay here because going outside will only harm me.

     But I have to. My forehead starts to bear out sweat and my hands are getting all clammy. I clutch my pencil with a tight fist and try to concentrate on my homework. But all the words are just a big glob of blur. Letting go of what I have in my hands, I search for my MP3 in my bag clumsily. I’ve got it. I cram the earphones in my ears. The music starts to flow but only to unsettle my heartbeat. I throw the MP3 on the bed. I look up. All I can see is the white ceiling with a few streaks of stains. I look down. My feet are tapping uneasily, making small arrhythmic sounds. I again think of the reasons. But now, they are not good enough. I know I have to do it.

     I stand up and walk towards the door. I put my ear on the crack, trying to hear something. But the only sounds I can hear are the ticking of the clock and the thumping of my heart. I push hard on my chest so that the sound would cease. It wouldn’t quiet down. Frustrated, I give a strong punch on it.

     My clammy hand is now holding the door knob. I wish I could go back to the time when all it had to hold was a pencil. It’s all slippery, giving an indecent touch. Biting, or rather chewing my lips, I put strength little by little on my hand. The door creaks open.

     The darkness flows into my room and much of the light I have saved in here leaks out into the infinite shadows of night and loses its way. I peek outside only to see nothing. I frantically search for other reasons why I don’t necessarily have to go. But I have to.

     With a quick swing of the door I push myself out of my safety zone and run for the destination and run for it and run. My swerving hands find another door push it open turn on the light and close it right behind me.

Breathing heavily, I look around. The sink, the tub, the shampoo, and the soap are all in their places, peacefully as ever. They seem to look in the same direction. I move my eyes and there, I find what I was so desperately looking for. I see the white bowl of relief, of comfort, of heaven.

Now I can go.