The Melody of Pip Winter

8: Ode To Joy

It was Sunday morning and Pip still ached. He had wrapped the blankets in his body and sat up in his bed. He had not slept as usual, he had not cried as usual the tears clung to his throat and he had not done anything. His neck pronged with discomfort at the position he had held all night. He had his arms tucked around himself and he knew if they unwrapped themselves his skin would burn. He was scared and that choked his breathing. His heart thrummed irregularly and he was drowning on the extreme weather conditions inside him. It was like he had forgotten shelter in the storm and now he was being hurled by relentless forces. He was overheating but his skin was threaded with cool shivers. His mother had left hours before his current state.

He did not have a cat. But sometimes when he had nothing left to let his thoughts he would imagine a fluffy black cat with glowing green eyes. He would love the creature but it would never love him back. He would suck up to the fluffed animal but it would scratch his arms and plot his murder. Except when the imagine disappeared he wasn't left with long red scratches from feline claws but the thick white scars under his shirt.

When his body pounded enough he crawled off his single bed with frail limbs. He held himself and continued to the clothes he had planned for the day. He carefully unraveled his arms and placed the clothes onto his body carefully too scared of the shooting pain.

He ended up in light blue trousers and a multicoloured jumper he had knitted. He slid fearfully down the stairs and meandered through the doorway without the task of breakfast. He prodded along with fatigued legs and hoped to make it to the plant nursery.

He needed the lavish green life to spread his room and distract the thoughts and the hurt that followed them. He hoped to achieve the new girl and maybe another life would do the job.

As he waddled in severe pain he watched others prance around so easily. Little kids skipped happily and the elderly skidded along with purpose. It seemed wrong for him to walk with such unease as other went on with their lives with nothing to sear their skin.

He need the distraction and he needed to get rid of the emotions again. He needed the unpleasantness gone. He promised himself he would not relapse on his current thoughts or current emotions they would disappear and he would never remember them again.

So he pushed himself uncomfortably into the proper posture and walked slightly easier. His feet pattered against the broken pavements in his yellow trainers. The world seemed quiet and the expressions that clouded the faces he saw were quiet with emotion.

He entered the nursery and admired the assortment of bright plants. He petted their smooth leaves and prickled the ones that crackled in the sunlight. The tips of his fingers layered in soil.

Pip walked through the forest-like aisles and illustrated the pretty and lavish stems in his head. The serene environment stroked his cheeks with pinkish shade. He walked up to a small and shrivelled plant.

The plant was small compared to the other plants and was clearly discoloured. It looked like fingers. He felt something prod his shoulder and instantly flinched away from the touch.

He clenched his jaw.

No memories!

He thought.

No more!

He jumped further away from the owner of the rough hands. He turned and saw a tall and slender young man. He had black hair and brown skin with parched lips and sweet brown eyes.

"Can I help you?" The man asked.

An idea rushed through his head, he did not know this man maybe that would make it easier to complete the third task. He could lie to him. Pip picked up the plant. Nerves shot through him and he tried to gulp enough courage to be able to speak.