 |
|
|
She felt the vise-like grip around her head, the grip she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Oh no,” she moaned. “I thought I was done with this.”
Not a chance! I am back.
“Please let me go,” Sharon begged.
No! You’re mine. Now move.
Slowly, carefully, Sharon got up from her desk. How had she not been aware? Normally she could sense when trouble was coming, but this time she had been so engrossed in her work she missed the obvious and now she was going to pay dearly for her inattention. The grip to her head didn’t let up, and now she could feel it stealing down her neck, violently, abruptly. “No, not again.”
Yes again! When are you going to learn that I rule you, your schedule, what you do, who you see and when? Your life is not your own, I can trifle with it whenever I want.
Inexorably she came to the realization that indeed she had no control. Her actions were that of an automaton as she moved down the passageway to her bedroom, always the bedroom. It always took place in the bedroom. She had tried the couch, had even tried TV room floor, but the only place where she was finally left alone in peace was the bedroom. Oh, how she had come to hate that room, and that bed.
She made a beeline for the en-suite bathroom first. Where are you going? Get onto that bed now!
In a small step of rebellion she cried out, “No! I need to go. Show some mercy. You already have me, give me a minute.”
I am right here. There is no escape.
She drank some water from the tap, even though her stomach roiled with nausea, straightened up and caught her reflection in the mirror, although she could see through only a blur and there seemed to be two of her looking back at her. One of the images looked to be laughing, the other somber.
She opened the bathroom door. Good. Now close the curtains and lie down. She hesitated. Move. NOW! Immediately she complied, drawing the curtains against an ever-darkening sky and scooted to the bed. Was that so hard?
“But…I am meant to meet Marion tonight. If I don’t make it, she’ll come looking for me.”
Call her.
Sharon blindly reached for the phone next to her bed, and hit Speed Dial 3, Marion’s home number. She heard it ring two, three, four times. “Hello. This is Marion.”
“Hi, it’s me,” Sharon didn’t identify herself. Marion knew her voice, besides she had caller id.
“Are you ok? You sound a little shaky.” Marion’s voice suffused with warmth reflected her concern.
“Ah. I’m all right, but I can’t come tonight after all. Something’s come up” Sharon’s muffled voice broke.
Hah! See I control who you see and where you go, didn’t I tell you?
“Why not? We’ve been planning this for weeks!” Sharon could hear the frustration, the anger in her best friend’s voice. “Honestly Sharon, you can be a wet hen sometimes, don’t chicken out on me now!”
“I’m sorry, I really am. But I can’t. I have a migraine.”
Oh yes, a migraine all right and I am just getting started. Better put that phone down because I am about to make your life a living hell for as long as I choose.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
|
|
|
