Beyond the Threshold

Ah, to feel anything other than pain. I am unsure if that fills me with hope or terror for the future. The shots of piercing discomfort, the dull aches and the debilitating reverberations through my body have become my new normal. I am unsure I know how to feel beyond the misery of the jitters and sharp shooting cramps. When waking up, it is empty and lonely again. Perhaps this is how inmates on a long stretch inside feel when approaching their release date? When they know the routine, the security blanket of supervision preventing them from acting out will be gone.

I've served my sentence, but what awaits me beyond the door? Opportunity or despondency? How do I even begin to reintegrate into the society I was once an active member of when I realise the truth when the veil has been lifted. The facade removed that all of this is pointless?

Vanity, wind chasing, fart in an echo chamber. Career ladder? I've spent 2 years of my life out of any kind of career other than careering towards an early grave. I've done soul-searching and internal work because... I had to. When there's no one else to talk to or share the big highlights of your day with (turning over in bed without feeling like my back broke, finding that lost coin from the collection I threw away, the one that's worth at least 3 times what I paid for it, or realising that we're all pawns).

"Every journey begins with one step," say the experts—typical experts and boffins, know-it-alls and self-righteous… What's the worst that could happen?" they say with all the conviction of Clinton. If it was as easy as that, I would have already passed over the threshold and entered the great wild beyond.

I'll just sit here and look out the window. My neighbours can see me, and I know what they think of me. I don't care.

Oh look, there's that old lady from across the road, Mrs…. dammit Tom, what's she called? Mrs Rothwaite, that's it. She must be coming home early from work today. It's only 2pm. Looks like that bag is going to… yep burst. Oh dear, all those spuds rolling about. Maybe I should go and help her?

No, I can't. It's not because I'm not a bad person. I just can't. She's reasonable; she would understand if she knew me well enough. Everyone would understand – and if they don't. Screw them. I don't need to prove anything to any… wait… what's happening now?

Who's that couple harassing her? This looks like it's going to kick off…. Think Tom… What can I do? I need to try.

Stepping from the lounge, slowly into the hallway and towards the front door, I feel a sense of purpose and desire to cross the threshold of my self-inflicted prison. I can also feel my chest tighten and my breathing quicken. Someone needs my help. That surely counts for something.

Opening the door, shaking, I can hear her shouting at the couple as they are trying to take her car keys. My heart is vibrating so hard I can almost feel it press against my ribcage and my eyes are a little blurry.

They haven't noticed me yet… Damn, my breathing is quickening and I can feel the slightest shot of adrenaline course through me. Now would be as good a time as any to frighten them. "Leave her alone… the police have been called. You have about five minutes," is all I can muster, as I try to get my breath back.

Fortunately, the pair were lacking in the bravado department and ran for it. Stupid kids or junkies...not from round here. Mrs Robinson looked over at me and thanked me. I could only wave my right hand as I closed the door with the faintest of smiles. That’s enough excitement for one day.

*

Thanks foir reading!

Author's Notes: Think the start of this was going to be used for someone's unofficial challenge but can't remember which. Anyway. There you go.