No Way Out (standard:drama, 1350 words)
Author: Ronny	Added: Sep 10 2001	Views/Reads: 3441/2368	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This story deals with a woman, who is trying to conquer her childhood fears.

Lying in my bed I feel the cold shadows closing in on me. Suffocating
me, trying to steal the very air that to me seems so thin. I know there 
is nothing to be afraid of, after all this is my house and I live 
alone. Yet I can’t shake this fear. When did this terror begin? How do 
I explain being a grown woman afraid of the dark afraid of my own 
shadow? God will this night never end?  I glance over at the clock on 
the nightstand, it’s only twelve-fifteen. I’m never going to make it 
through this night. As I lay here sweating even with the air 
conditioning blowing down over my head, I wonder when did this thing 
begin? Looking back I think it started when I was a little girl. (It’s 
the only time that remains a blur.) 

In my nightmares I hear a raised voice yelling and screaming at me to be
quiet and a door closing in my face. But that’s all I remember and even 
though I’m awake I still hear vague remnants of that terrifying voice 
telling me to be quiet and that door slamming shut as though I am in a 
prison. 

Trembling in my bed I fight the urge to scream and to go on screaming
forever and ever. “Get a hold of yourself Tina!” I yell out loud not 
only to convince myself but also to dispel the quiet, which seems 
louder than any sound I could ever make. When will this night end? 
Don’t look at the clock. I look any way; oh my God it’s only 
twelve-twenty. Five minutes! Five Minutes! I hear a rasping noise and 
vaguely register that it’s coming from me. I’m going to die hear in 
this dark room and no one will find me. What am I scared of? I leap 
from my bed and race towards the light fixture on the wall, which seems 
to be miles away. I flip on the light, blessed light. Now I must convey 
to my mind and heart that it’s safe. Breathe Tina, just breathe. 

It’s all right now, everything is all right. I keep repeating to myself
as though a litany. I think maybe eventually I will start to believe 
myself. Even the light cannot chase away the residual fear that clings 
to me daily. Now I sit on the edge of the bed rocking back and forth 
looking out the window, waiting for the dawn. I won’t be any good to 
anyone tomorrow. Yet knowing this I cannot force my stiff body to lie 
down again in that bed. Not if my life depends on it and somehow I feel 
it does. I feel so listless and at the same time restless. Maybe I will 
go down stairs and fix myself a cup of tea. I always heard it had 
soothing qualities. I laugh at myself, sort of a watery laugh, but a 
laugh nonetheless. It makes me feel pride that I could laugh in the 
midst of my nightmare. Somewhere inside is strength that has sustained 
me this far. I will find it to get through the night and tomorrow’s day 
when the night will come against me once more. I turn on the radio to 
try and  chase away any lingering shadows. The song playing is a soft 
jazz ballad that reminds me of summer days sitting on a porch, swatting 
flies. I ache for those times when peace was as normal then as angry 
voices and menacing shadows are now. Will this night ever end? 

I stand up and pace the floor, casting angry looks at the clock every
now and then. Of course I realize it’s not the clocks fault that I am 
insane. It’s the voice in my head or its mine because I’m listening to 
it. I got to sit down before I fall down. My legs are made of rubber. I 
slump in a chair to try and stay as far as I can from the bed of evil. 
(I refer to it as that sometimes when the nights are really bad like 
tonight.) As I sit in the chair I start to doze and I can see clearly 
me as a little girl crying because my father is drunk  and in a rage 
again. I cover my ears to try and drown out the sound but his voice 
booms like thunder on a rainy day. It’s muffled but I hear his voice 
still. 

Yelling always yelling, at my mom at me. Suddenly he turns towards me
and yells; “Stupid brat shut up before I give you something to cry 
about.” But I can’t stop crying because the fear of the punishment that 
is sure to come even if I was to stop crying won’t let me. I know what 
darkness waits and I know there won’t be an escape. Sure enough he 
grabs me by my arms and drags me down a flight of stairs to the 
basement to fling me into the closet and lock the door so I can’t get 
out. “ No daddy,” I plead. “I’ll be good, I’ll be quiet let me out 
please I sob in my little girl’s high voice.”  But, he doesn’t come 
back. 

No one comes for a long time and by the time my mom comes to let me out,
my voice is so hoarse that as she lifts me into her arms; the only 
sound I am able to make is a froggish croak.  I bury my head in her 


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