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» Book Reviews » Features » Short Stories
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Often at night she would wake, sweating, panting, heart pounding, as if she’d experienced a panic attack in her sleep. Then she would remember her dream, it was always the same night after night. He would be sitting next to her jabbering on and on about some boring topic that only involved him, and all the while she would be sinking into a sea of quicksand, arm outstretched toward him. She always tried to shout for help but no voice ever came out, she tried over and over again to attract his attention, to make him hear her, but he never did. And all the time she would be sinking and sinking, no longer struggling to pull herself out, almost as if she was accepting that he was drowning her and there was no escape. She took a couple of deep breaths and forced a smile to her face, but it was no good; she dropped her head again and felt the heaviness rest in her hands. She stayed like this for what seemed like several minutes, but in fact was only a brief 2 or 3 seconds. What was she going to do with her life? Could she endure this life anymore, could she allow herself to feel the negative emotions she felt when he treated her with such little respect? For a few moments she allowed herself to think about what she had wanted from life. She took herself back to her student days, to a time when she had been on her own and free to do as she pleased. Admittedly she’d been a loner, shy and awkward around people - even awkward with herself. There had been times when she longed to be part of the popular clique, and in fairness attempts were made to include her. But being too scared to join them, out of fear of not knowing what to say or what to do, she had chosen to stand on the outskirts, content to borrow her pleasure from seeing others. Then she had met him. He had adored her instantly, wanting to be with her almost every waking and soon sleeping moment of the day. He showered her with gifts, introduced her to new lifestyles. Comfortably cocooned she had finally felt needed and wanted. She groaned to herself and rubbed her temples. Acknowledging that she had allowed herself to be smothered by this man, oblivious to early warning signs - that probably she hadn’t wanted to see - was hard to swallow. She had felt so complete then, she hadn’t worried when he’d wanted to know her every move, her ETA after work, etc. It had all seemed so funny back then. But then it started to get silly, he would sulk if she wanted to go out with friends, insisting futuristically that she gave him at least 7 days notice of any intended night out. He sulked if she got home late, he sulked if she didn’t want to do something with him, and he sulked if she wanted to buy something he didn’t like. He even sulked when he bought her new boots that she wore to the library. He’d assumed he said, “ that the boots would only be worn on special occasions”. He couldn’t see that the library trip was a special occasion for her, it was time on her own, to be away from him, to take a deep breath and absorb what life was all about for a fleeting moment.
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