Claustrophobia (part 2)

Moving her hands around she came to realize that she’s in a wooden box. At first she tried not to think about it, to chase that thought away from her mind. But she couldn’t ignore the obvious signs. The small place, the darkness, the smell of dirt, the texture of wood. She was in some sort of coffin. Most likely buried in the ground. That thought made her shiver and tears unintentionally started flowing down her cheeks. He could feel a sharp pain in her heart, a throbbing of fear and powerlessness. She wanted to wipe away the tears with her hand but the space was so small she couldn’t move her hands close enough to her face. She started crying even more. Tried to move, tried to stop her mind from wandering, trying to stop her heart from racing. She was panicked, afraid and alone. She was in pain, in darkness and in denial.

-Hey, what are you most afraid of? Rachel once asked her. It can’t be death since you’re living your life as if you’re welcoming death with your arms open.

-I am not afraid of death. I am afraid of the awareness of death.

-Awareness of death?

-Yes, death is fine. As long as it comes quick. As long as you don’t realize, as long as you don’t see it coming. I think far worse than dying is to be aware of your own death. To see and feel your life slipping away. To be a powerless bystander just looking and observing the way your soul slowly and easily leaves your body. To be aware of your mortality yet to be unable to stop it. I fear that more than I fear death itself.

After a while the tears stopped flowing. She tried to be rational, think about her situation. She’s seen movies, she saw people get buried alive and still somehow manage to survive. Or perhaps someone will notice she’s gone. Will anyone notice she’s gone? She started feeling the walls again. Looking for any glimpse of hope. A small light, a small hole, a breath of fresh air, anything.

She got dressed and walked out the front door. Even though she already knew the answer she still asked Rachel if she wants to come to some dude’s party that she was invited too. The answer was, as she expected, a definite no.

Seeing as it wasn’t a long walk and the weather was still nice, even in September, she decided to walk until the house. Maybe that will help a bit with the headache she was feeling. On her way there she saw a hot dog stand and just then noticed that she was hungry. Bought two and sat down on a little bench to eat them. She was always attracted to the nature. The smell of grass, the noise of the wind, the sight of the sun, the clearness of the sky. She both liked and hated those. She hated them for their calmness, their demeanor. She, who was so messed up could never achieve that state of stillness. Perhaps she missed a lot of chances to do it when she was younger. Every time regret started building up inside her she would immediately start thinking or doing anything else but that so she got up, threw away the second half of the second hot dog and got back to walking.

Little by little her breathing was getting harder. She was gasping for air. Her chest was slowly moving up and down, her eyes were closed, her fingers were hurting from all the scratching she did on the ceiling. She was breaking down. She was broken down. She did not know how to get out. She did not know who could get her out. She did not know how she got here.

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