It started out quiet. It can be that way in the middle of the day – it’s like I’m hidden in a big, concrete chest of drawers. The odd car pulls in and out, people staring at me, wondering why I don’t climb out of this shiny piece of tat. None of their business. Sometimes I want to stick my tongue out like I’m six years old. One day I did, some old fart in a suit peering through the window like he was my headmaster, but then I remembered the last thing I needed to do was to make myself memorable. I turned my face into a smile, hoped he’d think he imagined it. It’s amazing what people will imagine when the truth is too weird to believe.
Thing is, that day I barely noticed. I was too distracted, staring at my phone, sending kisses, hoping he understood. I was nearly ready to become her. I just needed a bit more time before I confirmed all the worst things he thought about me.
Suddenly it wasn’t quiet any more. Not inside my head, or outside of it either. When I first got out I was walking, but then I had no choice. I was running, my trainers slipping everywhere, the ground slick and treacherous under my feet.
Then it happened. Then I was falling. My life didn’t flash before my eyes; nothing like that. Everything tapered down until all I was was a single word. I don’t know if I shouted it or I just became it. SORRY.