The Rope

I
Warmth streaming onto my face, a light body nestled into mine. Her face pure and expectant, mine creased in sleep. I need not open my eyes for the sensation of slack to envelope me. Holding this fragile rope for a moment I see hints of my future: beyond the past I neglected and the ties I cut loose. I let go and allow the rope to pool around my body, securing me here next to my daughter.

II
The mindless aspiring dreams fade to a numb melody of breaths, each capturing a fraction of the world and delivering it express into my throat. A burst of a southerly catches fast, circling my awareness. A rope slipping past my head snags on my shoulders, stopping short of the small warmth beside me. She settles; the fibres rest. Snug in between my clavicle and jugular it sleeps.

III
I prepare for the cold. Sitting up, I peer around into vacant space. Light. Busy echoes past the doorway. The blankets around me struggle as I move and shake off the doze of the night. A black nose shuffles out amidst the featureless colour and my senses savour her familiar touch. The blankets start to quiver as she wakes up with joy- the elation to be alive, the delight in being with her mother. I can’t help but hold the rope away from my daughter as we explore into the world. It hangs tucked under my shirt burning into my skin, metaphorically trailing back to where this all began.

IV
Heavy weight tugging at my collar. Grasping at my neck I pull the rope back. My hands brush the rough fibres and relief floods over me as a twisted joke. I can feel my pulse in my neck straining hard through the rope- it doesn’t let up. I take my daughter’s hand in my own. Comforting. Relaxing. Soft fur with pads strong and hardy. Her nails clipped neatly like hidden razors poised for action. Her paws radiate strength into my body, immediately I feel better.

V
A siren racing past echoes thunderclaps inside my head. Rattling and shaking, I lose my footing, staggering blind to where I departed. A siren. Ambulance. The rope drags behind me and the grip tightens further. I collapse. A thousand memories rush past my sight: scenes I tried to forget, words that never quite got erased, moments I never thought would repeat. Clawing at my throat helplessly but the rope tenses further. Quick breathes. Short puffs. Dragging air in. I recall the times I tried to get this far. I recall this sensation. The IV drip. The blood. Police grasping my arms. Grasping my neck. My neck. I am hanging onto a thread of life.

VI
Her paw is tucked under my hand. Warmth floods my deserted mind. The rope dangling precariously by my side and suspiciously slack. I am grounded yet I am a prisoner of my mind where the power lives nestled into my temple. I am not alone, I realise in horror, and my daughter is not there. The lady sitting across from me untangles our hands, gives her best wishes and leaves. I start to cry. Alone. Breaking. My rope tightens. I stand up. Get out. Get out.  The cord coils like ringlets of hair falling around my face. My hands fumble for the door and by keys dig into my hands. Pain threshold. I feel the thoughts are taking over. A gust of wind tightens my rope as I fall into the room. No energy left. I let the rope take over.

VII
The chair thuds to the floor. Tight. Tense. Swaying on my rope; the swing I long outgrew. Fading out. Going.

IX
Loose. Relaxed. Happy. I'm Gone.

© Charlie 2013