Glass Box

No. I can’t. I can’t get out. What is this? I reach out and feel the cool surface that’s encasing me… it’s smooth. I can’t open my eyes though, I can’t see what is happening to me. It’s so cold in here. And it’s so, so dark. I raise my hand to my face and I feel my eyelashes flutter against my fingers. Okay, so my eyes are open. But I can’t see anything–

All of a sudden, lights flash on from above me so suddenly that my pupils burn from the flood of light. Once my vision adjusts, I survey my surroundings. There’s only one thing I can see occupying the emptiness. A large ragged purple couch, like the one that we kept in our family room, sits directly in front of me. But the strange spectacle is not the couch itself, it is the people sitting on it. What’s my family doing here?

“Mum? What’s going on?”

She doesn’t react, but her eyes bore into mine. I turn to face my dad, who has the same empty expression pasted on his face like a mask. They’re both sitting completely rigid, backs straight, hands in their laps, completely lifeless. What is going on?

“Dad? Dad? What’s happening?”

Nothing. They both continue to stare at me until I feel like I’m suffocating. I look around and realize what the cool surface is. Glass. Thick walls of transparent glass trap me on all sides as if I’m a bug in a display case. My open palm, flat against the glass, curls and tightens into a fist and I pound frivolously, throwing my frail body at the walls in an effort to break through. My voice echoes and rings in the small enclosure, curdling screams and gasps escaping me. What’s going on? What’s going on… help me… help. Someone. Anyone. Please. I can’t get out.

Suddenly, I’m in my bed. My blankets are all muddled on the cold tile floor, twisted and damp. I had even managed to pull the sheets out and wrap myself in them, binding myself into a makeshift chrysalis. I sit up and pull the sheets away from my shivering body. The room around me seems just as I left it last night, the small window to my right still closed, but letting in a small amount of daylight. It’s overcast outside, giving the whole world a greyish tinge. I guess it’s time to get up.

I walk into my dingy kitchenette. My apartment is unnaturally small, the single bedroom no bigger than a walk-in closet with an adjoining bathroom that’s about the same size. None of the lights work properly, so I have several small lamps set up on the counters and tables, letting off an eerie glow.

I’m making coffee as my phone rings, vibrating on the cold countertop. I look at the caller, the letters “MUM” jumping up at me from the screen. Fuck. Not now. I’ll just call her later. I don’t have anything good to tell her anyway. There’s no need to burden her with the news of the breakup and the fact that I lost my job. She wouldn’t understand anyway…

It’s back. I’m back. Have I been dreaming this whole time? I press my palms against the glass again. They’re still sitting across from me, unblinking, watching me suffer. Maybe they can’t see me. I just want to get out, out of this box, out of this life, out of this dark fucking world. I look at my pale hands, bruised and red from trying to penetrate through the impenetrable. I’m so weak. I can’t even tell my own mother how I’m feeling. How much I want to stop feeling. Stop breathing. I fall to my knees and crawl over to the corner of the box, back against the cool glass, knees to my chest. I just want to get out. Please. Let me out. I’ll do anything. I raise my head to see my grey, dusty kitchenette. I’m no longer in the box, but standing in the middle of my apartment.

Suddenly, I feel an urge. An urge to break, to destroy, to feel the rush of smashing something so that I’m not the only broken thing in the room. I open the cupboard to my left and quickly grasp a blue glass plate. It has little dolphins on it. I raise it above my head and drop it, watching it fall, fall, fall, and produce millions of little blue diamonds, spraying the floor with beautifully dangerous, glittering shards. Wow. That felt incredible. Before I know it, every glass vase, plate, and ornament is ripped from the cupboards and on the floor, a sea of colours and sparkles resting at my feet. Colour. I haven’t seen or felt that in such a long time. I slowly drop to all fours, then lie down, the colours absorbing into my back. In the dreamy haze, it doesn’t hurt even though I know it should. It feels like something else… It feels like relief.

I wake up, for real this time. But this time I’m completely dry and well-rested. I can’t even remember the last time that happened. I walk into my kitchenette to find all of my dishes in their proper cupboards, fully intact. I throw an English muffin in the toaster and take out my blue dolphin plate. I pick up my phone and dial Mum’s number. I need to break the glass. I need to get out. And I need her help. I can’t let her watch me struggle in that box anymore. As the call goes through, I feel a crack in that thick, glass wall. When she picks up, the crack lengthens.

“Mum? It’s me. There’s something I have to tell you.”

The crack begins to let the sunshine in. I’ve missed the sunshine.