What Makes A Big Deal?

Soon, the girls leave and the doctors run more tests. The days grow more and more mundane as the actions grow more and more routine, leaving me prisoner to my thoughts.

As I await the therapist in the waiting room, my mind is racing, heart pounding, and palms sweating. I’ve been waiting for three years to meet with him, but of course, Dr. Johnson was completely booked until now. Each night I have been taunted with an atrocious dream and ready for the affliction to cease. Finally, he appears in the doorway and calls my name. Instantaneously, I stand up and shuffle behind the therapist to the cubicle.

I thought today would be just another normal day in chilled Maryland, but oh could I have been more wrong. The day started out just like every other. My little eleven-year-old heart was full of jubilance. I was having an admirable day with all my friends, and I had no worries. None of my siblings knew that an event that night at dinner was about to change our lives for better or for worse. My family and I sat down at aged table and we could all feel the tension that surrounded the air. “We have something to tell you guys, and we don’t want you to get upset” declared my mother. This statement made me nervous. Anytime some says not to get upset, you know something has happened that is going to change your entire live. “We are moving

Today was the day. Your fourth anniversary with the love of your life, Zack Merrick. These years have been some of the best years of life, but the past year has been kind of tough with him being so busy with tours, being in the studio, and interviews. You were so happy that he was so succesful, but it was taking quite a toll on both of you. For instance, right now you were waiting for Zach to get home from an interview that ran a little late and your were feeling a little anxious.

Kristien was struggling to sleep. It was night, she knew, because Israel had told her good night. Her wrist hurt really badly, but what could she do, she was a prisoner. It wouldn’t hurt as much if the cuff wasn’t pressing on it, but the cuff was, and she couldn’t move the cuff, it was secure. She knew what had happened. Chandrogana had accidentally hurt her wrist, but she didn’t know if it was just twisted, sprained or broken. By the time the doctor came to see her, her eyes were watering, it hurt so badly. The doctor came in, and didn’t say a word to Kristien. Just went to the panel in the wall. He scanned his handprint, and then typed in instructions. The one cuff on her hurting wrist, the left one, uncuffed, and Kristien felt a little bit of relief. But it was still very, very painful.

The day before our two year anniversary started off like any other day we spent together. I patiently waited to see his utter excitement to see me, upon arrival, I waved my parents goodbye and found my way to the front door. The steps to the door felt different today than it had before, they originally gave me chills of excitement, but today they were lacking that quality. With each stride to the next step upward

I scrambled madly, nearly letting out a scream as I latched a tight hold on the handle. Calm wafted through my body as I slowly pulled, letting the song flow into the air. Peace. I wouldn't be losing control tonight.

About a two years past, I had lost my job, and was in the process of moving out of my former place of residence. My plan was to split my parent’s garage in half, and build a room for me to stay while I got back up on my feet. Though until the room was built, I was to lay my head on the living room couch. Words cannot describe how uncomfortable that wretched sofa was. So I usually spent most nights, and waning hours of the mornings, outside in the driveway with my brother in law, Tony. We would usually drink and reminisce about simpler times, share stories of our uneventful days, and pass out as the sun was rising. Every night blended into the next. It was like living the same day for three weeks.

Being removed from the square yellow room is a welcome change, but not for long. Words roll off your tongue in a chant meant for only the insane to hear, vowels and consonants meshing together to form gibberish to other people’s ears. But the sentences and stories you speak make sense to you. Stories of gushing red rivers and dark sleepless nights and knights who could not slay the deadly dragon leave your mouth, bedtime stories for the sinister and senile. They only sound a little sad-not much. Besides, you say with a hoarse voice, it’s all true, every single word.

I attempted to hide my nerves. I’ve managed to get out of speaking in front of the class for the past year or so. I doubt some know what my voice sounds like. But I’m fine with that. Reluctantly, I read, confusing myself with the many names I have not been paying attention to since we started reading it. Luckily, the chapter is short, so rather quickly I look up to Mr. Walker again.

“Look for yourself,” he said as she walked in the room. It seemed like she had been crying for quite a while. I guess they told her about my condition.
The days carried on. Obliviously, my first several weeks of rehab, based on motor skills, flew by. Josie helped me through it

I don’t know how long I have been faking sleep, but the slow creak of the door startles me still. I can hear the slow, lumbering footsteps, feel their vibrations on the floor. When they stop, I can sense him bending over me, his hot breath fanning over my neck. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Esther Miller.” His gravelly voice causes goosebumps of fear to shiver down

For the first time since becoming best friends with Andrew’s fist, I’m able to think, relax, without fear clinging to every nerve ending.

For some reason, I could not think of anything to discuss with my therapist. The clock ticked on the wall as the silent seconds turned to minutes, and all I could do was look down at the carpet floor then back up at the awaiting therapist.

I couldn’t have been happier. My beautiful Nora, has agreed to marry me. Me, quiet Lawrence Finnigan from her chemistry class in senior year. On top of that, my promotion at my job finally let us get a new apartment and move out of my mother’s dusty basement. It had all been fine for the first couple of weeks, normal couple stuff, until I saw something move under the rug. I thought I was tired and tried to get some sleep with my soon-to-be wife, but then I heard hissing noises from downstairs, almost like a cat. If a cat could gargle hot oil and broken glass. I investigated