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Basin City
Bramford

Wicked

  • Your phone says 12:24am by the time you finally crawl yourself into bed. The lights are off. Your covers are pulled tightly around you as a faint breeze wafts through your bedroom window. You want nothing more than to close your eyes and forget about the long day you've had. Drifting off into a quiet sleep sounds absolutely lovely. It's then, in the quiet stillness of the night, that you find yourself thinking.

    Remember that one time back in 1993 when you said that really embarrassing thing at that party?

    You end up dwelling on this for a good twenty minutes. One thought leads to another and you find yourself in a pit of shame and guilt over things you shove away from your consciousness in your waking day.

    It's been over an hour of tossing and turning in your own secret shame.

    At some point your eyes flutter open and you swear in the corner of your room you see the shadow silhouette of a man, but as you turn to look over you remember the time you left your nine year old daughter standing in the rain for two hours after soccer practice.

    You close your eyes in hope that perhaps tomorrow will be better, you just have to force yourself to sleep for it to come.

    Maybe tomorrow you'll refill your Xanax so you don't have to go through this shit every other night.

    Maybe tomorrow will be better.

    Maybe.


    tw
    The subsequent pages will make reference to suicide and death.

  • Wicked
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