Twenty-three

Annette closed the cabinet door in the bathroom and stared at the reflection in the mirror.”I’m letting you go, here’s your termination letter” Johnathan said that morning. The words hung in the air and it almost made it difficult for her to breathe.”Two” she counted. As Annette made her way to her bed she looked at a picture on her bedside table a charming young man and she ,arm-in-arm looked distinctly happy. Anne wiped off a stray tear, removed the picture and tore it.”Five” she counted. All this anger was making her hungry.”Time for a midnight snack”, she mumbled and she walked over to her fridge. The walls were lined with pictures of her as a kid with hands all messy from hand-painting, grey hands from a trial at pottery, her play-doh kit she received at 8 as a Christmas present. Anne steadied her gaze at the Law degree that hung next to these. Bland, drab words on a piece of yellowed paper. What an antithesis to all that colour she loved as a kid!”Eight” she counted.

           Wasting no time she took the frame containing her degree and smashed it to the floor. The glass broke and it’s shards were all over the floor.”Ten” she counted. She grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter as she took one long sip. The new electric whisk she’d bought sat there on the platform, gathering dust. As instinct took over her, before she could even realize Anne was grabbing flour, eggs, butter and sugar from the cabinets.”Grandma loved chocolate cake” she said as if someone standing next to her was listening. There was no one. She hummed a tune as she was stirring the ingredients in when she realised there wasn’t any cocoa powder at home.She stopped stirring the batter and began walking away from the messy platform.”Twelve” she counted. Anne chugged down her second beer.”Thirteen” she counted. It was close to 3 am and she decided it was about time she went to bed. As she made her way towards her bedroom upstairs “Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one” she counted.

            Annette’s voice almost echoed in her empty apartment or so she felt as her vision began to blur.”It’s working” she said to herself with a smirk.”Twenty-two” she counted. She collapsed onto her bed and a tiny white bottle escaped her grasp. Seven little pills tumbled out of them,she popped one into her mouth her vision still blurry.”Twenty-three” she counted. As the world around her turned a monochromatic shade of grey “Tomorrow is a new day…” she said sounding cold and disinterested. The grey had now turned to black. Once it’s gone black, there’s no coming back.