Hope Will Find You

Blake’s dead sleep was ended abruptly, she sat up in bed gasping for breath. She kicked her covers off and fell back onto the bed clutching at her necklace and pulling it away from her throat. She lay there, heart beating fit to burst, and breathing heavily. Her necklace chain was twisted around her fingers, she grasped the pendent hard in one hand. Her face blanched as she felt the claustrophobic episode coming on again. Blake was not a claustrophobic person, but lately she had been waking from falling dreams feeling like the walls were closing in on her.

Blake sat up in bed again, the color was still drained from her face, and her hands were cold. She got up out of bed and stumbled numbly into the bath room. Her long black hair fell down around her face as she leaned over to turn the knobs in the shower. Almost instantly the steam began to rise from the cascade of water into the tub. Blake looked at herself in the mirror, she looked like a pale white shadow. She pulled at her tangled waist length hair, her fingers could barely move five inches without catching in a thick snarl. She winced as she ran the brush through her locks. When she was done she stripped and jumped into the shower. The hot water and thick steam brought the color back into her face and feeling back into her fingers.

When she got out of the shower she flopped back down onto her bed and closed her eyes. In her mind she stood on the corner of a busy street, waiting for something to happen, or someone to come. She saw the cars speed by and the people walk past her in their hurried commotion. Blake always loved the city, that’s why she lived in one, and this one was no different. Still, every night she stood on that corner waiting, and every night the girl would come. She would sit on the other side of the road and seem also to be waiting for something, and Blake was entranced by her.

She opened her eyes again and stared over in the direction of the clock, it was late. She got up and walked over to her closet, she fished out an outfit, not really caring what she ended up with. She didn’t have anything but blue jeans for bottoms, so anything would do. Her bras and underwear were all in a drawer across the room. Once she had managed to get on her undergarments she pulled on her jeans and slipped into her top. Like always it was a black t-shirt, this one read ‘Go tell someone who cares!’. Just like all her others, the comment was dark, and sometimes cruel. She sat down at the edge of her bed and flipped on the power to her stereo. It came on loud, and she turned it down a little bit. The high pitched vocals of GoldFrapp’s lead rang through the apartment. She grabbed her shoes and put them on, she yanked on the laces to her converse high tops, impatient with how much time she was wasting. She had to get to work at least a little before she had to start working, but she knew somehow she wouldn’t have time for coffee today.

About ten minutes later, after feeding the cat, finding her jacket and purse, and figuring out that she couldn’t lock the front door with her motorcycle key, she got out of the apartment. She ran down the street to the garage and threw her purse into the saddle-bag and sat down. She used the side view mirrors to apply mascara to her bright green eyes, and tie her hair back into a thick black braid, as per usual. After a few more minutes of primping and preparing she took off in the direction of work.