The Door
Thursday 7 th May 2015
Pulling my hand towards the door, was a force I had no power or authority over. A force that had left me appalled, bewildered... that had left me staring at the contents of a room I could not yet make sense of. It was unspoken of. What was I doing? My mind, submissive in character, was desperately ordering my body to obey the words that I had been told only too often: "Don't you ever dare walk past that door". But I did.
And here I was. But I no longer knew who 'I' was. For this room I stood in seemed incredibly familiar, and I was certain this was the first time I stood in it.
It was an ordinary room. A bit dusty, a few spiderwebs every half a metre or so, but ordinary nonetheless. Forty centimetres in front of me, prevailed a space occupied by a rickety desk, sustaining what seemed to be the catastrophic consequences of disorganisation. To me, it was far from normal, but then again, I was far from normal myself.
Beside it, a bed, neatly covered with beautiful designs, and above it, the indications of a celebrity obsession - a few annotated posters of good-looking men. A mirror, a wardrobe, a lamp, chair, bookshelf - the furnishings one would expect from an average teenaged girl.
Teenager. How had my life been as a teenager? I could not remember a detail. And it struck me that I had never thought about my adolescence - for I could not find it in my memories. Or rather, it wasn't there at all.
Almost as if on cue, the room became dark. Cold. Forbidding. The cobwebs increased in size. The dust swivelled, only to make a perfect circle around me, as if to highlight my presence within the room. Kicking furiously around me, I tried to regain control of my body, which seemed to be working in unison with this circle of dust to keep me in place. My seemingly detatched body would not obey.
"You are not Elisa," It said. Insanely terrified, satisfied to realise my voice was still within my control, I yelled, "Then, who I am I? What am I doing here? Who are you?"
Having received no answer, I managed to seize The Force and turn on the light. I then realised I was floating on an ocean - of papers strewn on the floor. It forced me to stare at the wall, at what I now realised were not absurd celebrity posters but four letters pinned to the wall. In fact, the rickety desk was full of them too.
H - E - L - P
The shock was so great I collapsed to the ground: This was my room. This is who I used to be. And they did not want me to know.
It was an ordinary room. A bit dusty, a few spiderwebs every half a metre or so, but ordinary nonetheless. Forty centimetres in front of me, prevailed a space occupied by a rickety desk, sustaining what seemed to be the catastrophic consequences of disorganisation. To me, it was far from normal, but then again, I was far from normal myself.
Beside it, a bed, neatly covered with beautiful designs, and above it, the indications of a celebrity obsession - a few annotated posters of good-looking men. A mirror, a wardrobe, a lamp, chair, bookshelf - the furnishings one would expect from an average teenaged girl.
Teenager. How had my life been as a teenager? I could not remember a detail. And it struck me that I had never thought about my adolescence - for I could not find it in my memories. Or rather, it wasn't there at all.
Almost as if on cue, the room became dark. Cold. Forbidding. The cobwebs increased in size. The dust swivelled, only to make a perfect circle around me, as if to highlight my presence within the room. Kicking furiously around me, I tried to regain control of my body, which seemed to be working in unison with this circle of dust to keep me in place. My seemingly detatched body would not obey.
"You are not Elisa," It said. Insanely terrified, satisfied to realise my voice was still within my control, I yelled, "Then, who I am I? What am I doing here? Who are you?"
Having received no answer, I managed to seize The Force and turn on the light. I then realised I was floating on an ocean - of papers strewn on the floor. It forced me to stare at the wall, at what I now realised were not absurd celebrity posters but four letters pinned to the wall. In fact, the rickety desk was full of them too.
H - E - L - P
The shock was so great I collapsed to the ground: This was my room. This is who I used to be. And they did not want me to know.
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