Walking to the bus station I hear footsteps behind me. The street is completely deserted at this time of the day. I clutch my bag against me and hurry a bit. The footsteps behind me seem to quicken their pace too. I slow down, they do too. I can run if it comes to that I tell myself. Am good at running with high heeled shoes. My long skirt would be a problem but I can still raise it up. Planning what to do in case I do need to do something, I momentarily forget the footsteps.
I look right and left still no one. I don't want the footsteps behind me to sense my fear so I don't turn around. But am tall and can take wide steps without seeming to have quickened my pace. I adopt this strategy. I pass through “Le Jardin de La Compagnie”, reach “Paille en Queue” but still don't turn to look. But now its Ok, there are people around here. Its when I finally relax that I realise I'd been holding my breath. A group of girls watch me walking by and I smile. They smile back. But am worried because am starting to scare myself. Am afraid I'd become completely paranoid. Maybe I should forget the pain easing techniques.
I often have abdominal cramps and have mastered some breathing techniques which ease the pain. I'd decided to try and find a pain easing technique for my headaches a while back.
When it pains I can feel it in every part of my body; even my skin seems to hurt. I lay down and stare unseeingly in front of me; that's when am lucky to be home because at work I go around on auto pilot. I have and need to get inside me and concentrate on the pain. I dare it to hurt more and it does. Thud... thud.. thud.. it goes.
I imagine it's my heart I hear pounding in my head. I imagine its my blood I hear pumping in my head.
I tell myself it has to hurt if it stops my heart would too.
I can't cry. That's how bad it hurts.
I try to take my mind off it. The bird trick is my best pain easing technique.
My head is a cage. With a locked door. The key is lost and I can't let the bird out. In my mind's eye, I hear it wailing and flying about the cage only to bump against its sides. Its wings flutter wildly for minutes. It rests the tries again. Again and again. It cannot escape. I squeeze my eyes hard and pray for the cage's door to be open when I open my eyes but when I do, it's still locked. I no longer feel it hurting me, am hurting for the poor bird.
The footsteps I heard on my way back home were no footsteps. It was the pain thudding.