I’m cold. I’m tired. It’s late. I just want to go to bed. I’m sitting at my desk, my feet resting on the feet of my swively chair, the cat perched on the back of my swivley chair. My computer is humming loudly. I can hear the rain on the roof. My eyes hurt. I’m ready to sleep. I yawn.
I look around the room, observing the mess. There’s always a mess. Xanthe has tipped my tiny coloured peg collection out on the carpet. Briar has pulled out a couple of pieces of her artwork and left them lying on my desk. I have dragged the vacuum cleaner out of its hiding spot in the linen cupboard and abandoned it in the corner of the room. The males in this family are the only ones who don’t make a mess. I like that about them.
I blink slowly and sigh heavily. All I can think about is bed. All I can think about is being cold. All I can think about is how tired I am. The rain starts hitting the roof harder, heavier, louder, and I remember…
I’m sitting on a chair at a table in an otherwise empty room. I have no shoes. I have no hair tie. My clothes are wet. I’m locked in and I don’t know how long they’re planning on keeping me, but it already feels like it’s been forever. I’m cold. I shiver.
I rest my elbows on the table and I rest my head in my hands. My hair is everywhere. It’s irritating my face. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t let me keep my hair tie. I don’t understand why they haven’t offered me a blanket. They’re the ones who made me lie down in a puddle. Surely they realise that I’m freezing in here. I turn my head and I look out the small window in the door. The glass is thick. I wonder if it’s soundproof. I wonder where they all are and what they’re all doing. I wonder what’s happening to Karl.
I wipe my hands over my face and my eyes are dry. I feel as though I should be crying. I’m too wired to be crying. I’m fucked, I’m fucked, I’m fucked. Once they find that pipe in my bag that’s it. I’ll never be able to leave the country. I’ll be trapped forever. I’m so angry and I’m so scared and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s going on. I wish they’d given me a bed. I guess they guessed I wouldn’t need to sleep. I guess they know I’m on drugs.
I sit on the chair. I wrap my arms around myself. I shiver. I wait. I wait. I wait.
Cold, tired and ready for bed.
They left me sitting in that room cold and wet for hours and hours. They never offered me a bed, or anything to eat or drink. I feel like they did that on purpose, left me in there alone and scared so that I'd tell them everything they wanted to know.