Everything was dead.
The coursework laying unstarted in front of her, the guitar she could hear being played somewhere else on the residence floor, her roommate’s empty chair, the journal she had nothing to write in anymore, the superficial smiles of other first-years anxious to make friends, the words she no longer had, the emotions of TV characters whose actors only imagined what they “should be” feeling…
But mostly it was her nothingness.
The blank nothingness that reminded her that everything was dead. The blank nothingness that placed a brick wall between her and anything she’d ever actually felt. The blank nothingness that was only confused away by the rush of her insides coming to save her when she called.
Sometimes they saved her when she called them with a knife, or from the top of a tall and unstable tree, or on top of the speeding motorcycle she legally wasn’t supposed to drive. But they always saved her. Sometimes they saved her during a brief moment of connection or genuine kindness between herself and another person, but these were nearly impossible to predict or rely on. Besides, what right had she to demand another’s time or energy when she could call on her insides to clear the nothingness herself?
Turning away from the unstarted coursework now hidden behind a black computer screen, she looked out the frigid crystal of her residence window. Light flecks of snow danced under the spotlight created by the streetlamp, unafraid of claiming attention; demanding it.
It looks cold. I’ve already wasted the time I should’ve spent working. I can’t do this without my insides.
She considered the blade beside her bed to call to them, but she hadn’t sterilized it in weeks and was hesitant about causing infection; she needed to call her insides for help – not kill them off. Anyway, soccer season was coming up and she needed to be in shape.
Resolving her thoughts, she changed into a pair of winter leggings, a mini-skirt, tight-fitting jacket, and boots with visible heels. Pulling her hair into a messy bun on top of her head, she glanced at her appearance in the mirror to make sure she looked the part. No need to bother with makeup; it couldn’t be seen from a distance anyway.
Throwing her residence key into the jacket pocket, she left the room and made her way toward the main exit. On her way, she was stopped by her roommate, Joy, who had returned from her evening adventure and was chatting with another person on their floor.
“You’re looking fiiine – going out?” Joy’s voice always rang with her constant enthusiasm.
“Yeah – just need some fresh air.” The words came out slightly staged and surprised her a bit; she hadn’t communicated or even thought about communicating with anyone in several hours. “It’s been a while since I dressed up so I figured why the hell not?”
“That’s the spirit! Stay safe – it’s pretty late to be out by yourself.” Something about Joy’s good-natured but misplaced concern aggravated her a bit. It felt so external; welcoming but from a closed-off distance.
That’s the whole point; I need this.
“Will do!” She smiled and moved to continue down the hall.
“And make sure you stay north of campus!” Joy called behind her, “it’s pretty sketch down toward Begonia Hollow!”
Without turning around, she reached up and gave a thumbs-up into the air where Joy could see it. Begonia Hollow was an area of student housing that hosted most of the university’s frat houses and, recently, most of the school’s sexual assault charges as well. The school generally tried to pretend the area didn’t exist but it was well-known among most of the students.
She stopped thinking about the Hollow the second she stepped outside the door and began walking south toward it. The chill brought a sense of feeling into her insides and she smiled as some of the snowflakes bounced on her uncovered cheeks.
Her insides were started to wake up.
Walking briskly down the dark streetlight-dotted highway, she wasn’t bothered (nor afraid of) the nothingness as much anymore. It wouldn’t be there much longer, since her insides were starting to respond, as she had known they would. They had never let her down when she called.
It took a few hours to reach Begonia Hollow – she wasn’t exactly sure but it didn’t really matter; time was the last thing on her mind. (Or rather, one of just about everything that was not on her mind, which was focused on one thing – the nothingness was disappearing.)
Turning onto the Hollow, she walked taller, a broad smile making its way onto both her face and her insides. She was alive. Her insides had finally pushed out the nothingness and all that was left was life. She could head back and focus on schoolwork but why? She was so alive! The life that makes her so full and present.
She moves into the centre of the street, watching the rows on houses on either side of the street. She isn’t exactly sure which are the frat houses, but nearly all of them house young university men and the entire area holds the dangerous reputation. Loud music and some shouting can be heard from one of them; her insides relish every moment. She continues walking.
“Hey you - in the heels! Whatchu doing out by yourself?” coos a deep voice from a small cluster of young men talking loudly.
“Ahh leave her alone, Blake,” she hears a response to the first voice.
“I’m just saying hi. Hey, lady, want a drink?”
She walks on, riding high on the sheer energy her insides award wherever they sense danger, the energy they pump into her every time she enters the Hollow by herself. While most houses are dark and silent, several others blare loud music and dangerous life.
A few blocks later, she is approached by a young man on a bicycle with a friend close behind him on foot.
“Heeey where are you going? Need a lift?”
She has to stop as the young man parks his bicycle directly in her path, demanding her attention that she doesn’t hesitate to give. She isn’t afraid of him; she doesn’t think much of him at all as he sways his bike flimsily from side to side. He may have the power to physically hurt her (and this does run through her mind), but he has no more idea what he was doing than she does. Beneath his confident exterior, he is weak and afraid; they almost always are.
“Don’t worry about my friend – he’s really drunk. Just ignore him!” The young man on foot has caught up and placed himself between her and the bicycle. His words take longer than they should and alcohol wafts from his breath into her nose. What once may well have triggered fear now triggers her insides to pump even more life into her body and mind. The nothingness once so heavy is now nothing more than a faint memory of earlier that night. She is alive and peaceful and full.
“I’m serious.” The drunk man on foot places his hands on her shoulders and leans in with what appears to be an effort to block her from his friend but functions more as an aid to help him stand straight. “My friend is really drunk and doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ll keep you safe from him.”
How are they so confident? She continues to look wordless at the pair, aware that bemusement is beginning to make its way onto her face.
“I believe you but I think I can make my own way,” she announces finally, cheerily moving to release herself from the standing man’s hold on her shoulders.
“Oh come on, I’m no drunker than he is – look at him!” Whines the man seated atop the parked bicycle still blocking her path.
From what she can tell, what he says is true, but she couldn’t care less who is more intoxicated than whom.
“No really. I need to protect you from him.” The man on foot returns one of his hands to her shoulder, only it’s stronger this time and she can sense a vague frustration seeping into his slurred words. It’s as though he is pushing for control of the situation and afraid of losing it. It is useless challenging him.
He needs some sort of reassurance. Damn motherless boys…
Still filled with a calm energy, she raises her hand and places it on top of his, softly but firmly, ready to yank off his hand and run if need be.
“I know. Thank you,” She smiles, her words equally soft but firm.
“I’m just looking out for you,” he pushes further, leaning his face closer to hers.
Like fucking shit you are.
“Thank. You.” Her firm voice masks the excitement coming from her insides. She places her forearm on his chest and gently pushes him away. “I would feel more comfortable if you stayed with your friend to make sure he doesn’t cause any more trouble.”
“Right – good thinking! She’s a smart little lady!” He stumbles back and begins leaning into his friend’s bike. “Gotta keep this here asshole from tearing shit up, eh?”
“Oh fuck off- ” the guy on the bike cuts off his protest when she delivers another calm smile in his direction, her blazing eyes daring him to continue.
“Have a good rest of the night!” She offers cheerily and turns around, returning the way she had come.
“You too, ma’am! Stay safe!”
Oh I will.
She can’t contain the life within her and begins to run. Back through the Hollow and onto the highway. She stops for a few moments to catch her breath but mostly she is running. Flying. Living. Full.
…
“Thank god you’re back,” Joy gushes as she re-enters the room, “You were gone for hours! I didn’t know you were going to be gone that long – it’s 3am and you don’t even have a damn cell phone. Something could have happened!”
“Right – I know. I’m sorry,” the life and sincerity in her own voice bring a sense of relief. She needn’t fear the nothingness anymore tonight. “I didn’t mean to worry you; the snow was just so beautiful and the dark, crisp air was so refreshing that I couldn’t leave.”
“Kay can you just tell someone next time how long you’re going to be gone for? I was really worried.”
“Yeah, I’m really sorry. How was your night? We didn’t get a chance to talk when we crossed paths in the hall.”
“It was actually so great…” Joy launches into a lively rehashing of her night of dancing and clubbing. It’s not difficult to listen intently, curiously, bland as the story may be. She is alive, present, and full. They both are.
