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| The Only One Who Knows |
| This story was written as a
challenge for which we were supposed to write a story "fitted" to a song. This is what came out. This story is based on the Billy Joel song, "The Only One Who Knows |
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Dark, bitter, alone my room is. My room makes me alone, but I’m safe. Safe from
No, I shouldn't think of it, but I can’t help it. He hurt me. That scar on my
arm...yes, it’s still there. I’ll come out of my room when it’s gone. When he’s
gone. My room helps me heal and forget. As long as I’m in here, I can’t be hurt.
But I am so alone. What? What’s that light? Ah, my eyes. Who’s come into my room? It’s not is it? “Hello,” he says. Should I answer? Maybe. I call hello to the person. He finds me quickly. “It will all be okay,” he says, “I won’t be like he was.” I shouldn’t say anything. He will be the same. I shouldn’t have even let him know I am here. But what if he is different? Could he help me heal? but I have my room for that. What if I go with him, like he asks? And what if he turns out to be like him? Can I trust him? No, I can’t. Why is he bugging me so? Surely I cannot mean anything to him! Why should he care? He doesn’t. But what if he does? I long for his company, but I cannot have it. I have to heal. But what if... What if... Maybe I can be safe outside my room. Maybe I can be safe with him. Where is he? He’s--gone! I can’t believe it! where did he go? Surely he didn’t leave me here all by myself. Not again! No! Come back! Take me with you! I’ll talk to you, I promise! Come back! why can you not hear my pounding? I’m so alone! Let me out of here! Can you not hear my cries? I’m tired of being alone! I’m sorry I ignored you, but silence is the only defense I have! Help me...please! Please. It’s dark. Maybe that’s because my eyes are closed. I don’t want to see anymore. Even if it’s just black. What’s that pain? Must be the scar on my arm...no, that’s gone. Oh. My chest bears scars now, probably my worst. I’ve done this to myself. My pain is of my own doing, and so far it has been the worst kind. If only I had told him something, anything, he might still be here. Why could I not see? I had someone who did not hurt me, and I was too afraid to trust. I must not think about it. But my chest hurts when I don‘t. My room seems darker now. I feel more alone. What can I do? Get out of here. Ah! My legs are sore. These walls are cold. Wait... here’s a warm spot! Oh--light--it’s bright but it’s so warm, so good. Oh, God. I forgot how beautiful it is out here. The birds, the trees, smells... how could I have gone so long? “I’ve been waiting,” It’s him. He looks so inviting in the morning air. What a beautiful smile. How long has he been out here? Why? What’s the catch--stop. My room...ah, he caught me looking. Ah, his arms feel so warm around me. So safe. “I’m sorry it took so long,” I say. He replies, “That’s how it goes.” |
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| [A Paintbrush] [Prelude to a Jail Sentence] [Stem Cell Stickler] [The Girl Who Had Nothing] |
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[Annie Codwell,] |