Fralin
Caitlyn Fralin
ENG 393 Martin
Manuscript 3
8 April 2011
Untitled 3
The sterile smell. The chilling air. The stiff cotton sheets. I can’t get comfortable. I
turn on my side with my back to the concrete wall. It was so easy to fall asleep in my own
bed. My own queen size bed topped with my feather-filled down comforter. And with
Grayson beside me. We always slept on our side. Him behind me. His arm positioned on the
curve of my waist. He fit. We fit. But not anymore.
A lump cultivates in my throat. A warm sensation builds behind my eyes. I squeeze
my eyelids tight together as if to squeeze out the burden burning in my heart. Step… step…
step… step. The sound comes from the hallway. My clenched lids unlock and my sight is
filtered by tears. I can only see a streak of yellow peaking from under my door. The shadows
of subtle footsteps slowly bounce past.
It’s midnight. The nurses always make midnight runs by each room in the unit to
listen out for anything out of the normal. I turn on my stomach to muffle the sounds of my
weeping. I miss Grayson. It’s just not fair. Grayson is dead and I will never see him again. I
bury my face into the pillow. I’m so tired. I want to sleep forever.
I turn completely over to face the ceiling. I inhale until every muscle in my back
tightens. As I exhale, I exaggerate my breath to feel the full effect of my muscles relaxing.
The doctor was right. These exercises do work. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale…
I’m driving down my old suburban road in Richmond, VA. My neighborhood seems to
be continuing as if nothing ever happened. Cars are parked out front. Lights are on.
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Fralin
Children are playing outside with their family pets. Not a single face turns to see me drive
by. I am invisible.
“How fuckin’ cute,” I mumble under my breath. I sit up straight in my seat, lock both
arms on the wheel and accelerate past the perfect lives of my neighbors. Entranced by the
power of the growing speed, the thought of never slowing down infests my thoughts. I don’t
have to do this anymore. I can end it all. Right here, right now. I close my eyes tight as I
push the pedal to the floor…
I open my eyes and I’m sitting at the wooden dining room table in my temporary
apartment. The hanging lamp dangling lifelessly from the ceiling is the only source of light in
the room. Through a window in the wall of the dining room, light sheds some color into the
living room, vaguely illuminating brown boxes and black trash bags. My eyes return to the
source of power and I notice a dark green bottle and wine glass directly spotlighted on the
table.
I reach for the Merlot and pour myself a glass. I need this. The smooth, warm liquid
wastes no time on my tongue and drains down my throat. There was something satisfying in
the way the red wine hit me. It comforts me from the inside, out. I don’t stop.
Blinking feels heavenly. The heaviness of my lids, the warm feeling in my stomach
and the sleepiness overcoming my body makes my next decision an easy one. I stand up
from the wooden table and empty bottle and I head for the couch. I plop down restlessly. I
nestle my head into the cheap fabric covered cushion and without a single thought, I drift
away…
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Fralin
Pound! Pound! Pound! My heart freezes mid beat. My eyes open instantly. The loud
vibrations from behind the door continue. Oh my god, nobody is supposed to be able to find
me. Nobody is supposed to know I’m here. Oh my god, who knows I’m here?
Somebody knows I’m here. Oh God, please help me. The door handle rattles out of
control. The beating grows stronger and louder. I race up from the couch back into the
kitchen. I need to find a weapon.
I fling open each drawer in the kitchen in hopes of finding something sharp. Nothing.
Lord, please! The door’s hinges loosen as the sound of fists pounding turns to feet
stomping. Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Each drawer is empty. My heartbeat becomes so heavy
and fast, I can’t breathe. I fall into the corner of the kitchen with my back to the wall.
The door is violently pulsating almost faster than the rhythm of my heart. I gasp for
air as tears stream down my face. I’m going to die.
BOOM! The door falls like a large oak in a hurricane. The silhouette of a man stands
in the frame of the doorway. Stephen. He stampedes over the door. As if to blend in with my
surroundings, I pull my body together tightly and tuck my head into my knees. I rock myself
in preparation for what’s about to occur. I don’t want to die.
Stephen finds me in the corner. I hear him chuckle under his breath. He paces
himself slowly over to me to prolong the fear in the anticipation. Squatting down in front of
my rocking body, he whispers, “I did it for you.” Palming my drenched face in his hands, I
open my eyes to lock gazes with Grayson’s killer.
Dark. Empty. Evil. Soulless.
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Fralin
Stephen sputters,“I did it for you Maddy! And how do you repay me?! You rat me out!”
Panic-stricken and choking for air, words fail to leave my mouth.
“You stupid bitch!”
Gripping my neck, Stephen lifts me from my seated position. My five foot four frame
is suspended in air by his deadly hold.
“You fucking bitch! So ungrateful!”
I claw at his hands as I struggle to breath.
“I fucking loved you, you fucking cunt!”
Desperate for air, I dig my fingernails into the sides of his face. Tearing deep into his
scruffed face, I burrow my nails as deep as I can into his temples. The grim look in his eyes
intensifies and automatically, his chokehold loosens. Powered by adrenaline, I drag my nails
down his temples to his jaws, revealing tracks of blood.
Bellowing in excruciating pain, Stephen releases and I plummet to the kitchen floor.
Everything goes black…
I awake to Loretta’s voice.
“Ms. James! Please wake up sweetheart! You are having a nightmare. Oh please
honey, open your eyes.”
Forgetting my surroundings, I’m terrified as I come to the realization of my encounter
with Stephen. I bat Loretta’s hands away from my neck and face.
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Grabbing my entire body like a mother and her child, Loretta says, “It’s okay
sweetheart, it’s okay. Big breaths. Inhale. Exhale.”
Shuddering in fear, I allow Loretta’s embrace to win. My ear, pressed against her
chest, listens to her strong heartbeat. I helplessly look into her dark brown eyes in search of
truth. The wrinkles around her face show her age and struggles, while her gaze reveals her
strength. She peers right back into me, sending me a feeling of security.
A reflection of a deep red enters my peripherals. Her white scrubs were soaked in a
deep crimson.
“Let’s get you patched up sweetheart.”
Opening up the first aid kit she brought in, Loretta pulls out a cotton swab and dabs
the side of my face. The blood soaks the swab instantly.
“What have I done to myself?” I cry. I look at my fingernails. Chipped and covered in
blood, each nail tip hides the scraps of skin from my face. Loretta massages antibiotic
cream into my fresh wounds. I am grateful for her gentle touch.
“Sweetheart, I know it wasn’t you. Yah couldn’t help it.”
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