How to Make Things Stop

How to Make Things Stop

The bullocks looked up from the grass just a creature to them, they wanted to see, wanted to see — I wasn’t scared. If they came too close, too fast, I knew, make yourself big, shout and run at them, done it many times before but they were coming quickly now, a big herd, bulky strong beasts, tang of dung and earth and animal, running faster — I spread my arms wide, ran at them, shouted — they came faster, splashing mud. I was very small then the sort of small that happens at bad times that had happened, would happen at worse times than this — I realised then they weren’t stopping. I was running, they were panting close, hooves churning — in front of me was a fence by a hedge, I climbed over, trapped but safe in the tiny space between hedge and fence, scared, how stupid to be scared — breath panting wet against my face, I was small and still, still and small, small and still as mouths pushed close. I didn’t learn anything about how to make things stop. I wouldn’t know the next time either — I would be small and still, still and small, he would move faster, his wet mouth would be on mine, trapped in my tiny space, stupid scared girl, small and still.

Admission: Room 36

Admission: Room 36

First I’m dismantled danger boxed away: razors, mouthwash dental floss — they can’t fix you if you keep trying to break. Gates shut the world out and me in, guarded from myself — I may earn a key when they trust me not to run. This room was built to keep life alive (if not exactly living) nothing here will bear my weight but nor can I — nor can I.