Glitch (The Write Awards 2013 Winner)

Glitch - Chapter 7

As promised the recovery of the operation was quick. Freya woke the day after the operation to stare at a sterile white ceiling with only the briefest twinge of pain remaining. It didn’t take long for a nurse to notice that she was awake.

“How are you feeling today?”

Freya didn’t turn her head to acknowledge the questioning stare of the nurse. Her mind was piecing together the memory of what the operation meant for her. And she wasn’t particularly in the mood to involve herself in polite conversation with someone who had lent a helping hand in her sterilization.

“I know this must be hard on you. But there is no use getting mad at me. The Government medical staff who performed the operation left yesterday immediately after the operation. We’re just the secondary caregivers.” The nurse then fumbled around in her pocket to produce a bronze watch with the same broken counter that Freya was now sick of seeing. Just another anomaly. Her animosity fell into pathetic invalidity; forcing Freya to sigh away her cold exterior.

“I’m fine. I just want a few minutes alone.”

“Of course.”

It took all of Freya’s depleted energy to hold back the tears until the nurse had left the room. They burnt hot underneath the bottom lids of her eyes. Only when she was left alone did Freya break. Allowing the tears to slide down from her muted choke of sobs. She was unable to deal with her emotions until she had released the pressure of tears first. Now was the time of irrationality. It was more than just a few minutes that Freya wanted alone. It took over an hour to get rid of the initial shock of the operation by crying and cursing into a pillow to soak up the noise of her breakdown.

By the time the nurse returned Freya had bled herself dry of tears.

“How are you feeling now?” the nurse asked. Freya ignored the question entirely and proceeded with a question of her own.

“When can I go back to my room?”

“This afternoon. We just need to keep you in rest for a few more hours.”

More than anything Freya wished to be getting on with the empty future of her day to day life because it was in the prison of glancing up at the ceiling that Freya was able to realign her gauge of misfortune.

Rock bottom. There was little else they could do to her now. It had never particularly been a high priority of Freya’s to have children. But the prospect had always been present with a distanced promise. Drained of yet another option in life, Freya could not even muster the energy to release the drowning sense of misery in another outbreak of unregulated crying. Instead a pool of dried and lacklustre tears fixed uncomfortably in the corner of her eyes. Her existence was forever going to continue in a monotonous and unchangeable drone. An oxymoronic anger dwelled in the pit of her stomach. She was reducing herself to the sole worth of motherhood and marriage. There were other things to do with a life. Other options, other achievements and other paths. But the choice should have been hers, and now one path had been forever struck off the list a numb void rushed forward to fill the open space. She wanted get back on her feet to seek out another path of worth.

It was Bryn they sent to release her when she became too restless to be kept in confinement later that afternoon. With an arm placed in his they made their way back to Freya’s room. He began the conversation with various empty questions regarding her recovery. She answered them all with a drowsiness induced by boredom. It wasn’t her intention to be rude. She had just been asked the questions before by the nurse and the answers had been uninteresting in the first place. In actual fact Freya was growing to appreciate Bryn’s company. He brought a welcome sense of reliability, trust and calm. His questions persisted, never allowing for a silence. Eventually he hit a question that was new.

“Is there anything you want?”

“I just want to feel normal again. To have something that isn’t blocked with the ridiculous constraints of this Convent.” The words of Mat inexplicably found a place within her thoughts.

 Useless, lonely and empty people. It is hardly surprising that Anomalies will search for… affection.

An easily accessible resource of cheap thrill. She knew what she wanted now. Unhindered by thoughts of reservation, Freya tugged on Bryn’s arm to bring him to a stop. She wrapped an insisting arm around his neck and abruptly pulled his lips onto hers. It was something real and something that could not be removed by the Government. For the briefest of moments she felt a rush of breath fill her starved emotions. But Bryn would not oblige. A stumbling shock pulled them apart again as Bryn blinked back with panic.

“I’m sorry Freya… I understand… but it would be taking advantage. If it makes any sense at all; I am doing this because you are worth more to me… I think you should probably get some rest. I take it you’ll be alright finding your own way back?” His hand hovered in the air whilst he considered placing it on her shoulder. He thought the better of it and quickly faded into the labyrinth of corridors Satis contained.

Freya promptly ignored the advice of Bryn. The last thing she needed was rest. She had experienced a brief moment of thrill and knew exactly where to seek it next. A thirst scratching at the back of her throat, a shrill demand that refused to be ignored and an unfamiliar hand pushing her in a direction beyond her control. She soon found herself knocking sharply against another door than her own.

“I’m sorry sunshine.” She expected the usual continuation of condolences from his greeting. But that was not what she received. “I don’t give the best sympathy,” he muttered and then followed his abrupt greeting with an attempted shut of the door. There was something familiar about his lack of sentiment. Perhaps it reminded Freya of the future awaiting her and the hope of understanding. Either way, something compelled her to block the door with a foot.

“That is exactly why I came here. I don’t want sympathy.”

Mat opened the door with a curious interest. They spoke in a language of a distinct lack of emotion understood comfortably by both.

“Then what do you want?”

“You told me Anomalies try to fill the emptiness with ‘affection’, does it work?”

“We’re getting a bit personal sunshine, aren’t we?” he spoke with a chuckle catching among his words.

“I don’t see the need of stepping around the subject. It’s a straightforward question. Yes or no?”

“Fair enough… using personal anecdotal evidence… yeah, a bit.”

“A bit?” She repeated.

“A bit.”

“Well, that will do.”

Freya pressed herself against Mat. His touch shivered against her skin creating a caress of scalding anticipation. She had long ditched concern for reservation; instead she raced in for the kiss. At first his reaction was one of surprise. Freya felt her hand curl the material of his shirt between her fingers; a silent plea for him to comply with the need that had removed all other thoughts from her mind. Her breath trapped in the throat as he tightened his hold and reciprocated her intentions with a matched push of his kiss against hers.

The relief offered her a brief moment of respite from the disconcerting thud of her panicked heartbeat against her terse chest. But it was replaced in moments with a growl of desperation that came from all sides of her thoughts. It seemed impossible to fight through her entangled thoughts to coordinate her movements as he tugged her into the room. But after a stumble the closing of the door behind her blocked the entry of any doubt. This was the new path she had chosen. Concealed in this reality of her choosing, the disconcerting future belonged to another world.