a walk in the park

Deafened by bass and blinded by the glowing light in the palm of my hand, I unknowingly found myself in the heart of a secret garden. Inky blackness enveloped me and I couldn’t see the way forward, or backwards. I was unsure, I , I couldn’t go further not knowing where the path would lead so I tried to hurriedly retrace my previous steps. The foreboding intensity of knowing the future before it occurs as I try to avoid all obstacles before it plays out in reality, is completely unbearable. Uncontrollable. I realise my tiny hope of survival decreases by the second, I am so scared.

I kind of get half way down to the entrance and I hear a noise, I put my phone into my pocket in case of emergency because I’m sensible like that and suddenly, I’m knocked to the ground with this weight of a man on top of me, his strength is too much for me to counter. I can’t see his face, or his hands, he may as well be the night itself in oppressive physical form ignoring the semi-glow of the lamp-post. He fumbles for my phone and I try to roll away from him, he pulls me closer into his body attempting to reduce my struggle. As he does so, I try to be the hero of my own story. I reach out to take my handset back but he quickly grabs my wrist, spits Cheeky bitch! and the hard silver strikes me across my cheekbone ripping skin and flesh.

I wake up, lying face upwards in darkness. Cold. I’m dizzy. Can’t think straight. Can’t see straight. Can’t see anything in fact. It’s as if I’m awake in a dream but it’s really hell but it’s actually really real. Silence and dense black whirl inside my head and in front of my eyes. I’m numb. My mouth is playing catch up with the voice in my head. Where am I? No longer in the square garden court, and the last place I remember was Frith Street. Indoors somewhere, lying on carpet, I can feel it rough against my back and shoulder blades. Why can I feel it against me anyway? As I go to rub my temple, my hand brushes across the scabbed gash on my cheek, I wince at the pain. I glance down to the rest of me.

I’m bordering on a panic attack but I control my breathing enough to try and stand up. The spinning is overpowering, I reach out my arms trying to catch something, feel my surroundings, steady myself. My hands just grab at space, empty darkness staggering and unbalancing my escape. My bare feet take baby stumbling steps. Trying to keep calm. It’s a room, it’s only a room. There will be a way out. Trying to fight off confusion and tenseness. Since I started moving and to aid any tiny relief, I notice that my nausea is slowly disappearing.

Something opens, the rush of cold air hits me. A switch clicks. Ha! Up and about? The light burns through to my mind as I try to speak. I scream, the spinning returns and sends me down into a bundled heap.

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