Part One – Day One
9 am
I wasn’t all that tired but I still wanted stay in bed. There was little point in getting up; I mean there was nothing to awake for. My hand fumbled for the clock next to my bed. 8:59. Quickly, I flung the covers to one side, before I could turn back and close my eyes. The wind was still groaning as if he was tired and indeed wanted to go to bed. After all he had been up all night; perhaps the rain would give him a break. My dressing gown was a folded heap on the floor and as I retrieved it, I noticed there was something in the pocket. The paper crinkled in my palm and I knew it was that chocolate bar I had enjoyed late last night. The whole house was a mess but I figured my mum would clean it, if she hadn’t already. However, that job was to be bestowed upon me as I discovered with a note on the dining room table. Mum had been called to work due to short staff. I told myself that I’d do it later; knowing deep down that it was a lie. Charlotte was also out; she was staying at her boyfriend’s house. So, it was the same old story that I was alone in the house which would be the start of a very dull one at that. I checked the breakfast cereal collection and concluded that there was nothing worth eating. But that wouldn’t stop me from actually having a bowl. The biggest love in my life is food, so I’m not passing up on an opportunity to indulge in it. The cereal was nicely drowned in milk before I began to eat. There was a magazine on the table. Flicking through the pages, I settled on a story about a girl who believes her boyfriend is an alien. To be honest, I bet she got a little bit of money out of that, which would be enough for whatever it is she needed paying. I highly doubt she actually believes her story but if it was true, at least she has a boyfriend whether an alien or not. Anyway, if he was an alien, imagine meeting the parents. There is a photo of her alongside a sketch that she has drawn of him. She says that they have a long distance relationship and that he only comes down from his own planet at least once a month. These types of magazines are a load of rubbish and just as I was getting to read about how they met, the post comes. I close the magazine and collect the little bundle of paper on the door mat. A quick flick through and I realise that there is nothing for me. No surprise there. I’ve finished the cereal and I add my bowl to ever increasing queue of dishes waiting to be washed. When I return to my room, the curtains are still closed and the room is quite dark. It is only by looking at it this way that I realise how crowded the room is. There are numerous large pieces of furniture planted everywhere; a desk, bed, drawers, wardrobe, bookcase. It is not a nice room but then that’s probably the reason why I don’t spend much time in it. Mum is adamant that it should be redecorated but it is not much of a priority for me, after all I only use it to sleep and get dressed in. Speaking of which, I rummaged around my clothing collection to find something that was worth wearing. I pulled out a pair of jeans and a top. Once dressed, I grabbed the brush and tried to sort my hair into something manageable. It was thick and slightly wavy; I guess if I took better care of it, it wouldn’t be half as bad as it is. This is something that Charlotte never fails to point out. Afterwards, I retreat to the living room and put the television on. So far my day is panning out to be rather exciting. Far from it! My phone rings at that moment;
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s mum. Just wanted to ask if you’d got my note?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Good. Oh, and would you mind tidying the house. You know, if you’re not doing anything else.” I could half hear a laugh in my head, when she said that. She knew that I wouldn’t be doing anything else.
“Yes, have a good day at work. Bye.” A sinking feeling took hold of me. It was the feeling I get so regularly that it would be a shock if I hadn’t gotten it just then. It was a feeling of worthlessness and uselessness. True, I did nothing and that culminated in the worthlessness and uselessness came when actually asked to do something. This is because the only things that I get asked to do are things like the dishes because I am useless at anything else. I put my phone down and glanced at the time. 9:52. Nearly an hour had gone past since I got up and I felt like all I should do is go back to bed.

10am

The dishes were done. As was the hovering, the ironing and anything else that I could think off. Usually, this helps the feeling of uselessness to surpass. Not today. In fact it only got worse. I could feel myself slipping into the darkness as it engulfed me. I knew how would go that I would start to feel myself sinking further and further into the depths of depression. Then my mood would come and I would indulge myself ever-more in food and television. They were comforts that in long-term did nothing to help but they were my refuge. There was something inside me; at the back of my mind. It was telling me to go and escape; to run away. It’s not that I had never thought of it before, in fact I had often thought about running away. Would that help?
I looked around at the room. The television was on, my book was next to me, and food was in the next room. I knew where everything was and it was predictable and comfortable. This was what I feared if I went out, ran away. I didn’t know what was out there and I didn’t know how to cope with it. It was then that I noticed my purse was on the table and as I glanced at it, I knew there was a solution. It had been so long since I’d actually had the courage to go out the front door that I had forgotten it was even there. I know that sounds strange but I never went out and therefore I never used it thereby forgetting about it. Opening my purse, I looked upon the key to my escape door. A little piece of plastic with a photo of a very different I printed into it. I had actually only used it a couple of times since obtaining my driving license. It was still new to me but today…today I was going to use it, brave the world and rid myself of my plague.

It was only twenty five past ten when I found myself at the helm of my car. It had been a present from my parents and it was a good little car. Mum had owned the same kind before she bought her new one. This therefore meant it was highly recommended. My heart was pounding as I turned on the ignition. The steering wheel was already slightly moist from the sweat of my hands. I tried to calm myself but it proved to be of little success. There, I envisioned myself leaving the car and running indoors, sitting on the couch watching some programme of which I cared little for. The temptation was so that I found my hand gripping the handle of the door tight enough to open it. I longed for the comfort that I was leaving behind. It felt so bad and I hadn’t even gone anywhere yet. Something inside me forced my hand away from the handle and back onto the wheel. My feet almost reluctantly lingered over the peddles. My other hand felt slippery over the gear stick as it fumbled for reverse. There was a loud roar from the engine before abruptly stopping as if been told to be quiet. A small red signal appeared on the dashboard as the car grounded to a halt. Stalled! I couldn’t even reverse it back a little without doing something wrong but, ignoring the warning in the back of my head that this was a sign, I persisted and had soon managed to reverse the car into the street. Quickly, I manoeuvred the car into first gear and had moved off, slightly shakily. Never the less I was on the road and away. I had had to turn up the music rather loudly to overcome the pounding in my chest and the palpitations that did not subside the further I drove. I had no idea where I was going but I knew that it was nowhere. By the sounds of it, I was planning a big adventure and truthfully all I was really doing was going to the shops. However, this was no easy feat, not for me. Before, I could even reach this destination, a horrible realisation struck me. I was out of petrol and would need to make another stop. At least it was empty when I arrived. Upon leaving the car to fill it up with petrol, I realised that I was as far away as possible from the pump. The petrol station started to fill up with cars and the occupiers of these vehicles emerged to stare over at the girl who was struggling. Her car was parked too far away; why she didn’t just move it, they thought. I couldn’t move it because it took all I had just to get it where it was. Anyway, I stretched the wire to its limit and actually succeeded with fuelling the car. I desperately did not want to go into the kiosk. Thankfully, it was a pay at pump. I mean, I couldn’t stand having to go to the kiosk and talk to the cashier; I was a nervous wreck as it was. Talking would only aggravate my nerves which I could do without. The receipt came out with the time printed at the top. 10.48. It had felt longer but around twenty minutes had passed since I had been in the house. If I could stretch to an hour of being out then I would be fulfilled for the day. Now all I had to do was somehow get to the shops, which was only about ten minutes away.

11am

Ten minutes was indeed how long it took to me to reach my desired location. The roads had been quiet, thankfully. That didn’t mean, of course, that I hadn’t stalled in the process of getting here. I had also put the car in the wrong gear and sat too long at the lights. These mistakes were swimming around my head like a film that has no end. Sitting in the bubble that was the car, I tried to breathe and remind myself that this was now in the past. When really they were very much in the present, they were in the forefront of my mind. Every other driver must have thought me so stupid and perhaps they were even annoyed at having to have had to wait for me. That’s the reason why I have always told myself that I should not go out because every time I do, I do something wrong. I was here now and knew that all I had to do was go in and get the stuff and go. It shouldn’t take long, I told myself.

The shop was quieter than I had expected but there were still enough people in it for me to venture further inside. There is nothing worse when going into a shop and realising you‘re the only customer and you don’t even want to buy anything. The hope in the cashier’s face follows you around the place as you linger and wait for someone else to enter before you head for the exit. I had encountered this problem a few times and was adamant since then for it not to be repeated. Anyway, I entered the shop and grabbed a basket that was next to the door. I always had this uneasy feeling that everyone was looking at me as I walked around. There was a couple arguing over what to do have for dinner. The woman was quite young and rather stylish, she was wearing sunglasses with her mobile in her other hand. There was a small child holding the hand of the man next to her. The child was holding a bag of sweets in her hand and the man was smiling down at her. The woman was scanning the healthy range and kept shaking her head at both the man and child. Whilst the woman reached over to grab something, the man gave the child some money as his daughter ran to buy them. The woman turned around at that point and noticed the girl; she turned to her husband and angrily yelled something to him. I hadn’t realised that I was watching them as intently as a woman’s trolley just about hit the back of my leg. This prompted me to move from where I was standing and find what it was I was looking for. As I walked around the aisles, I kept thinking about the couple with the child. The man may have thought he was being nice to the child but for all he knew that one bag of sweets could prompt a lifetime addiction to that kind of food. The child could be become overweight or have serious health problems in the future. This was a bit over the top but I knew that if my parents had been like the woman then perhaps I wouldn’t be as dependent on food as a source of comfort. As it happened I was away to find some sugar filled food. I was browsing the aisle for some treat that would no doubt do little for my weight when there was a sound that was continuous and ear-piercingly loud ringing around the whole shop. Some customers looked panicked and others chose to completely ignore it and continue with their shopping. The staffs were coming round to escort customers from the building, they were being told to leave what they had got and head to the exit. The people in my aisle were forming some sort of line to the exit and I followed. We were ushered outside as the alarm grew louder. I want to go home, why am I here? This was an even bigger sign that I should have stayed in the house. There was already some people sitting and standing around on the grassed area outside the shop. The rest of the people including myself joined them. There was still some general panic amongst people but most were now becoming annoyed at having to wait around. Then it hit me. The air was becoming tighter and difficult to grasp. My head was spinning around and everything was going into a blur. I tried to focus on something, to concentrate. Nothing would work and my chest felt tight but the rest of my body was dissolving in weakness. I could sense myself trying to move away from everyone else so I could try and breathe. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to me. However, this thought was playing heavily in the back of my mind which only made it worse. Tears were now emerging from my eyes. What I looked like right now was something that I also did not want to think about. Plummeting to the ground I tried to grasp for some air. My heartbeat was speeding up so unnaturally that I was sure a heart attack was just around the corner. Then I felt something, something had taken my hand. Someone’s voice was in my ears, telling me to breathe. I tried to rid their grip from my hand but they were holding on too tightly. It was a man’s voice and he was now just talking about something that I couldn’t make out. This was not making me any calmer. Why would a stranger talking to me calm me down? I was getting embarrassed; I could feel everyone looking at me and continued to shut my eyes. Calm down, breathe. If you breathe they will stop looking at you. I tried to concentrate on home and all the comforts that it held. I tried to envision myself there and away from my current situation. Slowly my breathing returned to a normal pace. My eyes were still closed and I was terrified to open them. The hand that was over mine had disappeared as had the voice. Was it just my imagination? This thought prompted my eyes open and just as they did, I regretted it.

Most people were back to worrying about their own situation and how they had better things to do than wait for the fire brigade to arrive. A few eyes darted over in my direction but I was almost used to that anyway. But the voice had not been an imagination. The man was sitting next to me but looking away at something in the distance. He was quite tall with black hair and rather thick rimmed glasses. He was wearing skinny trousers with a blazer and shirt. I guessed him to be young but I was never any good at ages. I tried to move away but he looked over and smiled.
“Oh, good you’re alive! No, I knew that! You had a panic attack, did you know that?” He spoke quick and enthusiastically. His face lit up as he gave a small laugh. When he did, his head titled back a bit as if trying to gargle water. I nodded. I wanted him to go away and leave me alone. More than ever now I wanted to go home.
“Well, I was over there, just there where the woman and the child are.” He pointed to the woman I had seen before in the shop. She was holding her daughter’s hand and the man was discussing something with a member of staff. He continued to talk;
“Then that woman who works here came over and asked anyone if they knew what to do. She said there was an ambulance on its way but someone was having a heart attack. I put my hand up and said “Yeah, I’m studying to be a doctor” and so she made me come and sit with you but I knew you weren’t dying.” If only you knew. He didn’t take much of a break for air, himself. I had to convince him that I was fine and that he didn’t have to sit with me. This was not going to be easy, I mean I lack any sort of skills to hold a conversation. Especially with someone I don’t know. It was as if my body flowed with nerves rather than blood as my hands began to shake. If he noticed this though, he would take it as a sign that I was having another panic attack. Every time I tried to speak, nothing came of it and I was silent. He, on the other hand, persisted in speaking.
“So, yeah I’m currently studying medicine at university. You know, to be a doctor. I think I’d make a good doctor but more importantly do you? What an opportunity! Right, let’s just imagine that you were an actual patient. What did you make of my bedside manner? Was it okay?” He was eagerly looking over at me for some feedback. All I wanted to do was leave and not talk to him but he wasn’t going to go.
“…it was good.” I said barely above a whisper. He strained to hear but seemed pleased with my answer.
“Really? Thanks. So, what is it that you do?” He was really starting to talk to me now. I preferred it when he just murmured and talked to anyone who would listen without needing an answer.
“Nothing, I’ve just finished school and hoping to go to university next year.” I said but was fading away near the end. I was sure that he didn’t really hear what I said but he didn’t say anything. He just nodded.
“It’s good to keep talking. It helps the panic and anxiety. The ambulance will be here soon when the fire brigade come, to check you over. I’ve never been in an ambulance. Have you? I think it would be kind of fun, skipping the traffic and all that. Obviously, though, only if nothing too serious was wrong with you! Hey, I’m glad I don’t have anywhere to be today. This should be over soon, though. It’s about twelve now, so maybe by one this will all be over with.”

12pm


He was wrong on two things. One being that talking does not calm you down, well not me anyway. Also, he was wrong that ambulances are fun and that it would be over by one. The thought of the ambulance coming to talk to me and examine whether I’m okay was enough to send me into another attack. My breathing was going and the air was once more becoming tight and disappearing. However, the man next me was waiting and as soon as my breathing took the turn for the worst, he was there to insist that I breathe and calm down. Then he produced a pack of sweets from his pocket.
“Here, I’ve got something that you might need. Have one.” He said almost forcing it in my hand. It was a small jelly sweet and the sugar fizzled on my tongue. I tried to focus on the action of chewing and my breathing slowed. I tried to thank him.
“That’s okay. I noticed that it might help because you had them in your basket. See, I was in the same aisle as you. Keep that packet, you might need them.” Even a stranger noticed my addiction to unhealthy food. But that’s what he was, a stranger and he was still talking to me. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted him to leave. There was nothing particularly wrong with him, I mean he was friendly and at least only trying to be helpful but I didn’t know him. I didn’t know what to say nor did I know what was normal to do in this situation. I was scared of being alone when the ambulance came and how to deal with it and this made me somehow think I wanted him there. As soon as this thought crept into my mind, I had to shake my head and remind myself that he was not someone who could really help. He didn’t know me and he didn’t know my long list of anxieties and abnormalities. If he did he would run a mile and he was adding to the list anyway so it was best all-round if he just left me alone. Home now seemed like a distant memory like a dream of heaven that was never quite there. I was a stuck in a hell full of flames and people’s wandering eyes and voices that belonged to strangers and flashing lights. Help! My hands were sweating and as I tried to wipe them on my thighs, the same woman who had called for the man to help me rushed over to the ambulance. She was pointing to me and hand shook as she did so. Her face was rather white and I realised she looked very worried about something. I guess she still thought I was dying but I was beginning to think that this could be the case as my heartbeat was so fast as if it was on the run. The man next to me got up and took one of the paramedics aside to explain about his ‘patient’. The other one approached me, I was thankful that it was the woman paramedic. She knelt down and smiled.
“Hello, I’m here to check you over. The woman over there that works here seems to think you’re suffering from a heart attack. Now, if you come with me, I’ll hopefully reassure you that that isn’t the case.” The woman offered me some support with her arm as I pulled myself from the ground. I had been sitting ever since the panic attack and my legs felt flat. They had absolutely no life in them and my mind went black. I had to stop for a moment as the light-headedness caused my vision to disappear. My heart was still beating fast and my throat had gone dry which I couldn’t tell as to whether that was from the attack or nerves. The other paramedic came over at that point. He walked briskly past us and into the ambulance; he was getting some piece of equipment out. Please, no. That can’t be for me. I had no idea what it was but he was also fixing the bed that was in the ambulance. Everything inside me weakened as I was helped onto it. I remembered seeing something similar on a television programme. There were little wires that were connected to a machine that made a beeping noise. The man paramedic fiddled with these wires as the woman paramedic shut the ambulance doors. She approached me cautiously and began to speak rather quietly. I had difficulty as it was to understand what people were saying when I was in a stressful situation so it was an increased strain to have to hear what she was saying in such a soft tone.
“These wires are going to be attached to your arms and chest. To do this you may need to remove your top. Don’t worry; I’ll be carrying out the ecg. What we do is attach these electrodes as I said and these will carry electrical signals to the machine here where we can determine your heartbeat. Do you have any questions?” Indeed, I had numerous questions circling my brain like rubber ducks at a fairground; ready to be hooked and plucked out. There were the immediate questions about the actual test; was it painful? How long does it last for? What happens if my heartbeat is too fast? Then there were the other anxieties about the fact that I had to remove my top in front of strangers and that they would see me like that. My heart rate would just be increasing now because of what was happening. Why do you have to get yourself in these messes? My face and, if possible, the rest of me was beginning to take on a dark red glow as I fumbled with the material of my clothing. It was sticky and I realised that it was covered in sweat. I ran my hand over my forehead quickly and appeared to be dripping with sweat. I was sitting here; a big red, sweaty mess. I felt the embarrassment swallow me whole as I tried to sink further into the bed I was on. My arms were crossed over my chest but the woman tried to move them. She was trying to attach the electrodes and I really couldn’t belief that she had to touch my skin which was dry and sticky. She smiled and that almost made it worse; I felt so ashamed that I was making her have to do what she was doing. The machine made a beeping noise at this point.
“That’s the ecg starting. Now, it should take around five minutes.” She looked over at the machine that the man had kept his eyes on the whole time. She had said that it would only take five minutes but it felt as if everything had frozen except my heartbeat. It rang loud and clear over everything yet time itself seemed to have stopped, as if it had suffered a heart attack. The lines on the machine moved slowly and I could barely make them out as my mind went black. The paramedics didn’t seem to move and I was wary of even wriggling slightly in case I did something to upset the electrodes. Finally, the woman leaned over and removed the little wires from my chest. She passed my top to me and collected a piece of paper from the man. They murmured something together.
“Okay…wait, what was your name?” She asked as she examined the piece of paper once more.
“Eve, Eve Mannington.” She nodded and wrote it on the top of the paper she held. Then she showed me the paper as she explained what it meant.
“Well, Eve I can tell you that the man who had been looking after you was correct. You are indeed, not suffering from a heart attack and instead a panic attack. See, here the ecg indicates that your heartbeat is at 150 but decreasing. Now, have you been suffering from these for a long time?”
“No…not really.” I knew I was lying and that I had suffered from these panic attacks for as long as I could remember. I had made a good job at hiding it and at times they were never that severe. Due to this, Mum and Charlotte never guessed and put it down to my nervous state anyway. I didn’t want to admit that I had them a lot and hadn’t done anything about it. The woman’s face contorted into a look of sadness.
“Oh, that must have been really scary for you. I want to reassure that when you feel these symptoms again that it is probably a panic attack but please, please do not hesitate to call for an ambulance or help. That is what we are here for. Right, what age are you Eve?” She asked, taking out a small pad of paper. She flicked through it quickly and settled on a clean page half-way in. I mumbled something that she hesitantly wrote down. I peered over as she scribbled an eighteen onto the page.
“Okay, Eve what I want you to do is make an appointment with your doctor. Also, you are eighteen and so are legally an adult but would you like me to call you anyone such as a parent?” I shook my head, the last thing I wanted to do was alert my mum about this awful turn of events. Guaranteed no other eighteen year old in this situation, not that there would be many (if any), would not be looked upon with as much suspicion and concern such as that of a five year old walking around on its own without an adult. I felt compelled to bring out the piece of plastic that had once seemed my key to ‘the new world’ and was now acting like a jail out of free card and one that I wished would take me home, to the old and safe world. The woman looked upon me as either lying about my age or as if I shouldn’t have been allowed out without some sort of carer. Not a bad idea. I mean, maybe then I wouldn’t get myself into these ridiculous scenarios. She saw the card in my hand and squinted to make out what it was, I was attempting to make it casual as if it just happened to be in my hand at the exact time that she was mentally debating whether I was legally of age to be out and about on my own.
“What’s in your hand, Eve?” She asked as if I had just produced a lethal weapon of which I was about to point at her head. I shrugged a little and handed it to her. She looked at it for a little longer than I would have expected and that was almost enough to feel the re-emergence of a panic attack. What if I go to jail…for fraud? Sense would have told me that this would be impossible considering the license was legit; after all I sat the test, signed everything, paid for it and got the photo taken for it. But it didn’t, see I don’t have any sense, not common sense. I guess common sense is inborn but that doesn’t that just prove that I am in some way abnormal, even from birth? After examining and approving my license, she handed it back to me and with a leaflet in hand, I was allowed back into the minefield of bodies and eyes that was mapped out before me. I had to dart a few explosive looks as I made my way to a safe area of green grass. I was shocked to realise that we were still to stay here until the fire engine arrived. That aside, I was glad to be alone though. The man that had helped me was nowhere in sight and was probably hidden somewhere amongst the swarm of bodies that festered around a large tree. They seemed to think that if they stayed together in a huddle, they would be safe and it gave them comfort. They’re behaviour was interesting to me so alike in appearance but so different in nature. Of course, it was not them and instead it was me, who stood out as the odd one, the unfit one destined for extinction. Only those with the right characteristics can survive and these were what I did not possess. Only the strong, tough and confident ones survive. The weak will die out eventually and I guess that was my path, determined from the moment I was born. Survival instincts and the best characteristics are inherited and in the genes of each species. Therefore, I was doomed from the minute I first breathed air, my genes were from the weak and so I was flawed, flawed in a world that favours perfection. Perfection was the normal and the sum goes that a species minus normal equal’s imperfection and that will not do. Imperfection is left on the scrap heap of life. Those who do not epitomise perfection do not get offered the best jobs even if underneath they offer the best skills for it, they do not make the most friends or the best opportunities and the most money. The sad truth is; underneath they are the best at adapting and surviving, hell they’ve survived this superficial and extroverted world … Blue flashing lights entered my subconscious at this point, interrupting my train of thought. The fire engine was, at last, here. Unfortunately these blue lights were not coming from a large red vehicle but instead a smaller white one with blue lighters over it; POLICE. Everything seemed to go into a haze. As if a dream or a nightmare. The main police officer made his way over to what looked like the store manager. Another two police officers were stood beside him. They individually cross examined everyone with their eyes including myself. It was here that I realised I really did look like the odd one out. Everything inside me turned cold as if I had turned to stone. A horrible feeling crept upon me and it was that feeling that I had experienced for a short while just before in the ambulance. I often imagined what I would do, if I were to go to jail. There, I definitely would not survive; you have to be one of the strong ones to be able to survive that. This thought was common in my mind due to the fact that I was aware that at some point I would do something wrong. For example, when I drove I had little trust in my ability and envisaged myself causing an accident. Why are the police here? It’s something I’ve done, I know it is. There was voice that sounded familiar and it was coming closer. That man was here again. My heart was beating faster and my palms were becoming sweaty. What does he want?
“That’s the police here and the fire engine is just around the corner. This has been quite the day, wouldn’t you say? All three emergency services in one! Well, I thought I’d come and tell you that the police reckon the fire was started deliberately and they have to take witness statements from everyone. Oh, how are you, are you okay?” He was speaking faster than he had before and decided to sit down next to me. I thought we were waiting on the fire engine but alas, they had arrived whilst I was being subjected to that ecg thing. Suddenly a little television drama was playing in my head, what if we all had to go to court or had to stay in prison? I could see it, each one of us taking the stand; the man next to me giving a step-by-step account of the events and the woman with the sunglasses looking too important to even be answering any questions. An officer was walking towards us and it was another woman official but this time she was much older and had a stern but bored look on her face.
“Hello, I’m PC Angling. Now, do you understand that we have to get witness statements from each and every one of you here because the fire looks like a deliberate attempt to burn the shop? Now, how about you, I understand you’re the one who’s having the panic attacks?” Her voice stayed at the same tone and level the whole time that she spoke and her expression changed little from a look of mundane boredom. She took me aside and brought out a notebook she had had tucked into her belt. She went through all the same mandatory questions that the paramedic had. Then she began to ask about the fire.
“Why were you at the shop?” She sounded as if she was about to fall asleep as she repeated the question that she had already asked to several other witnesses. Her tone was low and I imagined the octane levels of her voice being straight lines rather than waves. I couldn’t help but fiddle with the leaflet that I received earlier but the paper was smudging and going soggy with the sweat of my hands. I could make out what the woman was saying just about but it sounded as if it was in the middle of traffic where I was straining to hear above the noise. I paused for a moment before answering not because I needed to change my answer or anything but I just didn’t know exactly what to say. I knew it would sound like a garbled mess.
“I…I…went to the shops. I drove to the shops; my car is in the car park. I went in to get something; I didn’t want anything in particular. Then I went round the shop, I had a basket and…then…then the alarm went: it was really loud and it kept getting louder but lots of people were moving about and they went to the exit. I followed them and I left my basket in the aisle; it was the sweet aisle…” I was babbling on about nothing and she looked rather confused and annoyed but when she spoke, her voice had not changed.
“Okay… do you normally go to this shop?” If I said no, then that would just look suspicious, why after not usually going to this shop would I go today when there’s a deliberate fire? I didn’t want to lie but I had to say I did after all I sort of did considering this was where mum usually got her shopping from.
“Em…well…yes but I don’t always do the shopping but there was nothing in the house for lunch so I thought I would get something...” My voice was trailing as I lost what to say. I could never quite finish a sentence properly and always ended up just fading out as I was at a lost at how to round it off properly and instead could end up just repeating myself. The officer continued writing and her eyes widened at one point and I knew she was thinking how weird this girl is. She looked up at me and asked what had brought on the panic attack. I didn’t quite know what to answer. I could explain that the very idea of being around people made me nervous to a dangerous extent and that the situation was all new to me and that was before the fire alarm. I knew that if I answered I could be in danger of going on and on but I just mentioned that I suffered from nerves at the best of times and I was scared that there might be a big fire and that we might not get out. She seemed satisfied with this answer and closed her notebook. She was explaining the procedure for afterwards and what would happen with the case but the noise around her voice had increased but the more I tried to listen, the louder it got. Simultaneously my answers to the questions were on a non-stop repeat as I cringed each time it played. She explained that should it be needed, my witness statement would be important if the case went to court. The woman patted down her uniform from the grass which was blowing around in the wind. She fixed her hat and moved over to the man, ready to question him with the same enthusiasm she had fostered in all her previous interviews. Shortly afterwards, the man walked over to me and I realised he was not going to go away.
“It looks like we’re free to go! Ha, sounds like we’ve been in jail…” He began to laugh rather loudly to himself. It’s not like I didn’t understand the joke, it just wasn’t that funny and I was far too nervous and stressed to be laughing anyway. Meanwhile, there was a bit of discussion amongst the huddle at the trees. All three police officers were talking to the store manager as people began to file out and into the car park. I caught snippets of the talk going on between the different groups of people. One man was remarking that it was now one ‘o’ clock and that he was going to be late for a meeting a work. That almost threw me, how could it only be one? All that drama had seemed much longer than just one hour, since the last time I checked the time but I guess that’s what happens when times freezes.