See Me Fear

I sat in the darkening room, the shadows lengthening and fading, as night fell outside. The sounds from the kitchen could be heard as the rest of the family sat down to eat. I waited in the room. The dark room. I hadn’t been told I could put on the light so rather than risk further reprimand or punishment, I sat there in the dark. Hungry, stressed and fearful. What had happened to my brother after he was rushed to the hospital. To add further information to the filing cabinet of reports our family seemed to contribute. These many incidents must have assisted with improving the studies of the local doctors and nurses. Indeed, if it was not for the various accidents our family ‘appeared’ to frequently have, some doctors and nurses would have had large gaps in their education. Right now they would be engaged in examining the massive head wound my younger brother was suffering? Was his head wound actually smashed through to the brain? Were the doctors trying to piece it together? Were there any bits left behind in the park that we had missed? Were the crows and scavengers already gathering them up and feasting on the pieces? If there were pieces missing, would it change his behaviour? Could we replace the bits with other pieces of brains? With the amount of blood that had streamed from his head as I carried him home. Had he bleed out? Were my parents actually going to the hospital now for the bad news. Was the priest standing at the bedside having administered last rites (Even then, television and the movies were already contributing to the stereotypes we were being invested with)?

Then there were steps approaching the bedroom door. So, was I right? My father had not left? Was this it? All the waiting was finally over (and all the waiting for those of you who have been reading the blog about the incident)? The steps stopped outside the door and the handle turned. My heart was racing. The expressive terms of fear sometimes used, that ‘my heart was in my mouth’ or ‘my heart leapt to my throat’ was clear. It is of course simply the increased sensation experienced by the adrenalin increased heart-rate causing the person to feel the actual path of pulsing blood travelling through carotid artery and eventually back through the external and internal jugular vein. But just saying ‘my heart-rate increased’ doesn’t quite convey the emotion of the moment or the real feeling. It’s a bit like saying ‘it was windy’, when you free fall from 10,000 feet. It is a little more than just ‘windy’ (and your heart can be in your mouth just prior to that as well). Sometimes the moment would be lost if we didn’t make use of our wonderful vocabulary and emotional interpretations. Right now my heart was in my throat. Here in the dark room, with just enough light to see the turning door handle.

(Continued tomorrow)