Night Time Girl

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story about a young woman, who refers to herself as "The Night Time Girl". A name she had come up with for herself on one of her visits to a lover. He never visits her. It's always she who has to step into his world. Until one night she takes one step too much.

Submitted: April 26, 2010

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Submitted: April 26, 2010

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Night Time Girl
 
Every time she passed the gate that separated his house from the outer world, she couldn’t suppress this vision. This horrible inner picture of herself hanging pierced up on one of the fence posts. Hanging there bleeding. Like a medieval corpse positioned outside of town to warn potential intruders of the awaiting danger. Which was weird, since this was supposed to be a place where she could lay down her weapons. So why did she always feel as if she was entering a danger zone?
For the millionth time she wanted to turn around and just hit the gas. Get away from this house. This whole life, if possible – and exchange it for one that took place in the daylight. But the point was that she never did. She never truly considered turning the wheel around. She kept going every time, remote-controlled.
Then the house would come into view. And she would see light in a few of the windows. That was normally the moment her pain ceased.
But it was not the same today. The sight just tore her down even more. In just a few seconds she’d be in there. Safe in the warmth of an embrace she had awaited for too long.
It was weird. When you waited for too long, things got strangely deformed. It always felt as if the feeling stretched. It stretched until it was tearing at her from the outside. Making her suffocate. Making her want to suffocate which was even worse.
In one of the many nights that she had wandered through this house she had come up with a word for all of this. She had stood by the huge window overlooking the pool. Moon-light had reflected on the surface. Throwing a thousand sparkles, like a chance ray of sunshine in a broken mirror.
“Night time girl”. That was what she was. His “night time girl”.
She knew he didn’t have others for daytime. No, he wasn’t like that. He was one hundred percent faithful. He didn’t even think about others, which was part of the problem. Sometimes she wished he would betray her. It would have made things so much easier. She could have blamed him then. For the pain. For not loving her enough.
But he did love her and she knew it. And since it was that way she had no-one to blame but herself for all this blankness. She didn’t even know where it came from. Maybe it was just part of being a “night time girl”. She still couldn’t help thinking that this expression was the best declaration for all of this.
And back then standing at the window she had had this other vision. A vision of herself drowning in the dark water of the pool right outside the window. She saw her hair float and expand in the water, saw herself dive deeper and deeper into the cold darkness. In a weird way this had been a beautiful picture.
She had stood there wondering if he would ever come to save her if he knew. If he knew she was drowning, unable to breathe, in front of his own house.
It was one thing to claim you were willing to do everything for someone. It was a completely different thing to prove it.
And then she had acted on impulse. In retrospect, it didn’t even feel as if she had intended to actually do it.  But maybe that was not true. She couldn’t tell since every memory of it had gotten distorted by the never-ending silence following it.
The water felt cold. Cold in a good way. She kept floating. It was easy not to breathe. So much easier than she had ever imagined. And then she imagined his hands grabbing her. Dragging her out of the water. In the distance she could hear someone screaming. But the words she did not understand. And then the world blurred out. The whole world sunk with her into the water. And it was peaceful. Like a dream. Like floating between waking and sleeping. Awaiting a beautiful dream, that was how it felt like. And it was so close. It was so close she could almost feel it. It was so easy.
It could have been easy if she had not been woken up again. To real darkness and such coldness, it had made her shiver mercilessly. And then she realized she was suffocating for real, in a much too tight embrace. Why didn’t he stop pressing her so tightly? Didn’t he realize he was crushing her? She had never known such force. She had never guessed anyone could have such force. She could feel every bone inside her break silently, while she was burning from the inside. Or was it freezing? She couldn’t tell.
When you wait for too long, things get strangely deformed. The feeling stretches. It stretches until it is tearing at you from the outside. Making you suffocate. Making you want to suffocate, which is even worse.
She took a deep breath and walked up to the front door. In a few moments she’d be in there. Safe in an embrace she’d been awaiting for too long.
 
 
 


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