Too Tired To Care

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


A short story written for Crazygirl's Power Punch contest, written on 'exhaustion'.

Submitted: September 24, 2017

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Submitted: September 24, 2017

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Too Tired To Care

She stands at the kitchen sink, momentarily grabbing hold of the edge to maintain her balance. Did she sleep at all last night? Has she ever slept? It does not feel like it, not right now as exhaustion sweeps over her like some kind of toxic cloud.

Did Tony come home last night? And what about Helen? She should go upstairs and check their rooms, but the stairs....There’s so many of them, each one as high as their garden wall. She can’t face it, not right now. Maybe one of them will get up and then there will be no need.

Things swim in and out of focus. The effort of staying upright brings her out in a sweat. She should sit down; she needs to, but daren’t. There’s a real risk that if she did she would never find the strength to get back onto her feet.

A switch – that’s what she needs. A way of powering down, of turning right off. But who would press it for her? They are all too reliant, too unmotivated to lift a finger for themselves. How many times has she been told that that is her own fault? She made it that way so there’s no point in complaining now.

Back to thinking of a switch. It would have to be somewhere accessible, somewhere that she could reach easily to press it herself and gain oblivion. She fingers the side of her neck and almost smiles. That could work.

But who would turn it on again? At this point in time she really could no longer care.

The phone starts ringing. She should go and answer it but that would mean she’d have to move away from her support. Even the thought of that sets her head to spinning. Let it ring. If it’s important they’ll ring back.

It stops and for a while all is quiet. Perhaps Tony or Helen got themselves up and answered it; it was more than likely for one of them anyway. She opens and closes her eyes once, twice, just trying to get her vision to clear.

The phone starts to ring again. With each ring it makes she feels like a dagger is being forcibly thrust into the side of her head. Then the mobile joins in, beeping to announce that she has got mail. She’s going to have to make the effort and make herself move but it feels like she is trying to wade through waist-deep treacle.

Thud! It jolts through her; a physical sensation that accompanies the booming sound. Someone is knocking hard at the door. Too many different directions to go in, she gives up the effort to stay on her feet and allows herself to crumple to the floor. Never before has linoleum on concrete seemed so comfortable.

Her eyes are closing when again she finds herself being jolted back to consciousness. Sirens blaring, lights flashing; nothing to do with her. She shuts it out, ignores it and finally allows herself....to.....sleep.


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