hayley white

The smell of the nylon beige trousers and new carpets so strong, hard and crunchy under my feet. I move with a wobbling hesitancy, the bow legs pushed apart by the soggy baulk of  a nappy , soft soled shoes padding as they hit the floor. The sound unsatisfactory compared to the energy and force of newfound feet and gravity learning to work in tandem, synergy.  Plodding faster amongst the fabrics and racks of clothes, hiding, giggling STOP.

 

Something small catches my eye, I become unstable, warey and watching. Curious. Another small person in my world, I don’t understand. I get grabbed, scratchy nails clawing at my   jacket and proffered, to make friends. I don’t like it, someone my size penetrating my adult world, where I am the only little one, the only entertainment.

 

Set down I run and hide, momentarily. Wobbling forward with new confidence arms outstretched, reaching for my new friend…..

 

Moving faster, everyone is looking at the small people, and bamb their little head hits the floor, scraping on the itchy carpet….

 

The shock builds to a siren whale, dampened by the hanging fabric of clothes…. I have run off. But not far watching the scene I have caused. Impassive, curious….

 

I get snatched up the same nails scratching off my coat.  Voices rise. I get strapped in, can’t move.

 

Soft flabby folds surround me squeezing tight, I can’t move and I want to get down.

 

I wriggle pushing away from suffocation. I am free and run off.Trying to find somewhere to hide. I can smell the talcum powder scent, dusty and floral, a cloud of pink jumper engulfs me, surrounds me, struggling to get breath and my lungs are full musty dust…. An engulfing smell…. I get hoisted up, carried and planted on a knee. I go soft, floppy, resistance gone. Muscles tight and sprung releasing, submitting, giving over.

 

Resistance is futile.

 

The table pushed into my tummy and I have  nowhere to to go. Penned in by pink. I sit still, I am being fussed, toys thrust into my face, I don’t know what to do. I sit silently, waiting for my escape, part of me desperate for the escape the other part trying to work out what is expected of me…. What do I need to do to get away. Looking around, confused I wait. Then an arm reaches across me, grasping at a cup on the table. A fleshy fold hangs down, I grab it and pinch as hard as I can. A yelp, the cup crashes down, clatters on the table and off on to the floor….hot tea, milky and a bit sour, steaming pores from the cup, off the edge of the table. I get dropped and run off, laughing at my new freedom. Around the kitchen door, past the shadows of the bannisters and under the stairs to hide. Raise voices and clattering of cups in the sink, running water. The slap of a wet mop on the lino floor…. 

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Everything goes quiet and I wait…. Unsure of what has happened and what to do next. I hear a soft pleading voice call my name…..

 

I edge forward from the shadows, nervously moving towards the bright light of the kitchen. I wait holding on to the door frame, peering around. Tea has been washed up and table reset. I run up to pink talcum powder smell, holding on to the back of the chair. A curvy fleshy bit of fat hanging over the back of the chair seat, soft and pliable squishy. My hands are itchy and I reach out for it…. In a pinching movement. My nails clasp deep into the flesh, a yelp follows… and I run off. Making a gurgling sound, a trapped giggle in my through, trapped by fear and the pulsing air in my lungs. Adrenalin. This time there is nowhere to hide, I get chased and picked up. 

“ Why do you always pinch Jennen? She only wants to be  your friend? I told you what would happen if y you pinched her again….. Your head is getting flushed down the toilet, for being spiteful!”

 

I get wrenched round by my ankles, everything goes red and the blood is pumping in my head, the air is pushing to get out of my lungs, and up my throat, trapped between a scream, shock and gravity - sound and breath is held in stasis waiting for the inevitable…. Water thrashing around, thundering sound crashing surrounding my head. My hair is wet. One last thrash and I go still. Grip is released and I go floppy on the floor. Faint smells of bleach, dried out potpori in a wicker basket and the fluffy peach of the carpet surrounds me, as I lay down.

 

The world goes quiet….