Mother: A Story from the Phobia Realm by Grace Alice Evans

Trigger Warning: Suicide

I took what I believed was the deepest and calmest breath that?I have ever taken in my relatively short, bittersweet life. I looked around the cold, dingy bathroom lit only by a lightbulb on the edge of burning out, hanging sadly from the wire. For a few seconds, I concentrated on the steam rising from the bathtub in which I lay, until my eyes began to sting, which in turn made my eyesight go all blurry, forcing me to blink.?

I noticed that my breasts, unappetisingly similar in size and shape to a pair of discount lemons, looked like two tiny mountains which rose above the surface of the water. This thought made me giggle out loud in a thoroughly ridiculous manner, with my giggle sounding more like a stifled wheeze bouncing off the four glaze-tiled walls. This has made me realise just how many noises have echoed like this in this very bathroom, like the noise of a cheap razor being pulled apart in my hands, or the sound?of tears dripping onto my bare feet as I stood on a set of ancient scales, to name a few. And now, the last sound coming from me to be heard in this bathroom was an odd-sounding laugh of a depressed soul finally coming to terms of peace with itself.

I was ready. Very slowly, I slid downwards in the bathtub, gradually submerging my face beneath the water. The hot water entering my nostrils was an odd and unpleasant sensation, but instead of focusing on it, I concentrated very hard on my third eye chakra, and let myself become immersed in the sensation of being fully aware of my body, which jolted repeatedly as less and less oxygen was being delivered to my brain. Every single cell in my body felt as if it was slowly burning up, a light prickle at first, getting worse and worse with every passing second. My instinct told me to sit up, to breathe, because that is what my body was made for, but I fought with my own nature. The burning sensation reached a climax, and when I thought that I could no longer go on and that my body will explode into a burst of flames, a wave of warmth and calmness spread though me.

I seemed to have lost the sense of sight and the sense of hearing, however, I could feel that my body was in motion, and I could feel that I was falling and being repeatedly pulled upwards by some unknown force, only to fall back again. This seemed to go on forever, before, me being me, I ultimately got bored of it all and must have fallen asleep.

I do not know how much time has passed since I fell asleep, but it must have been rather long, as the last time I remembered it was a grey and bleak evening in rainy mid-October, and the light filtering through the faded turquoise curtains seemed to be that of a summer sun. I was lying on my side on a soft mattress, wrapped up in a thick, snow-white duvet. My head lay on a pair of sweet-smelling pillows, a smell which brought to my mind lavender and rose with a hint of patchouli. I inhaled it deeply before rubbing my shaved head out of pure habit, as I used to unknot my long brown curls every morning before I got out of bed, in those faraway times before I have decided to opt for a short, boyish haircut which caused many people on the streets to look at me oddly and throw insults in my face, ‘lesbo’ and ‘butch’ to name a few. It made me laugh internally and out loud, as little did they know how passionate my relationship with my boyfriend was.

I breathed in the sweet smell which has wafted through the window, which was evidently open, a smell of something sweet and delicious, perhaps chocolate-chip cookies, and I realised that this has been the first time in years I have thought of food as being ‘delicious’.

Was I finally in heaven?

Grace Alice Evans

Grace Alice Evans

Grace Alice, a young woman very fond of coffee, peanut butter, and dogs, is an English and Creative Writing university student currently working on a series of weird fiction novels. Having struggled with mental health problems almost all her life, she has eventually turned her illness into a source of inspiration for her writing, which features very strong themes relating to mental health.
Grace Alice Evans