White Noise

“Emerson! Get up”

I am rudely awakened by the screeching voice of mother, I'm already dreading the rest of the day. I am greeted with a throbbing headache as soon as I open my eyes. The caravan is tinted a dark orange from the morning sun being filtered through the brown curtains. I have nothing planned for today; except for escaping this metal box for as long as I can. Perhaps I’ll check out the pool at the holiday centre; I still have three hours until it opens. The claustrophobic chaos is already making my skin crawl with discomfort. How did I get here?

I wonder if anyone notices me leaving. I've gone unmentioned for the 20 minutes I’ve been sitting here since I woke up, so I doubt it. Andro seems restless, I’ll take her for a walk around the camp.

As expected, I remain unnoticed as I leave without a word shared with anyone - as I like it. I have always been appreciative of nature and adventure, so maybe if I spend as much time as possible alone and outside, my sanity may still be intact when I return home. The tension that built within me during the short time spent surrounded by everyone gradually diffuses as I walk further and further away from civilization; with Andro trotting along beside me happy and relieved. I have more in common with my dog, than I do with any other family member. I’ll head towards the nature path, maybe I’ll be able to breathe a little better surrounded by greenery instead of other people’s air. After walking through a narrow path between endless trees for almost 40 minutes, I am released into an open field - with not a being in sight. This is the first time I’ve smiled in months, perhaps this trip could be refreshing for me. Are those waves I can hear? Any remaining feelings of discomfort unfog my mind as I approach the edge of a miniature cliff, overlooking the sea. I believed it to be impossible for the whispers in the back of my mind to be silenced, but with the combination of the cool breeze, gentle crashes of waves, and vivid colours of the sky contrasted with the sea, the voices have been muted for the first time since as long as I can remember. Now I can use this miracle to sit with Andro, and organise my thoughts.

What can I do to feel truly content with how I live? It is not myself I want to change, but my surroundings. How can I? I am unable to change the people I am surrounded with, I have been cursed with a family I do not fit into. There is nothing I can do about that; I need an alternative. Would I live if I were to just slide off this edge? It’s not too far of a fall down, maybe I’ll just break a leg or two. I shouldn’t consider such an alternative. Though, everyone has intrusive thoughts, but to this extent? No, maybe I’m just dramatic. Even if I am just a dramatic person, I do believe everyone has a side to themselves they’ll prefer not to display, I believe everyone has a Hyde* buried within them. But sometimes he escapes, creating psychopaths. Of course, my ideologies do not represent the science of psychopathy, though it should be noted that no one is entirely moral. If such a person did exist, I would consider them the definition of mundane. Where’s the fun? The sea breeze is becoming unbearable, I should head back soon, Andro is shivering. I know, as soon as I stand up, my peace of mind will automatically return to the never-ending, tormenting whispers once more. I don’t want to leave, even though my own body, as well as Andro’s, has become stiff with coldness. British weather has always confounded me; the month of September should never be this depressing. Where did the past 3 hours go? Surely I was not sitting stationary for that long. Time also confounds me.

Andro seems relieved to begin walking back. With her old age, it is rare to see her run, but now she’s doing laps around the field. Why has she stopped? That normally means she’s found something, she seems particularly interested in whatever this is. I’ll jog up to her; something is wrong. Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Such a depressing turn on such a peaceful day. A dead rabbit. Not just dead, mutilated. Either a fox or a hunter. Why is there a rogue rabbit anyway? It could have been someone’s pet, that is the most likely scenario. Either taken here specifically to be rid of by the owner, or taken from a garden by a fox. At least it has a perfect resting place.

“Come, Andro.”

Surely she’ll contract some kind of disease from being around it; it seems as though it’s been decaying for at least a week. Wait. I can see multiple small brown masses contrasted with the green of the grass. More rabbits? Hmm, just as I thought. Perhaps there is a rabid animal murdering these creatures, or a rabbit serial killer. I should pick Andro up, whatever the cause is, I need to eliminate any possibility of harm towards her. I’ve walked around each brown lump I can see, altogether there’s five of them, all with around 10 metres between them. My mind has become restless and confused once more with this odd tragedy, with each voice suggesting its own theory on what happened here. The more I think about the rabbits, the darker the voices become. Sacrifice? Why does that even come to my mind? Although, I have researched plenty about the possibility of witchcraft, and the coincidences of these killings do, in fact, suggest sacrificial means. No, I’m overthinking, again. That’s a serious problem of mine. Realistically, it’s probably just a rabbit-infested area, with murderous foxes on the loose.