The Stairway

The jolt of your grocery basket shocks you awake, your hands clutching the handle, your mind slapped awake, your eyes widening, your pupils adjusting to the influx of light. You look up to see the woman who walked right into you without care or remorse to leave just as easily. Her child sticks her tongue out at you, not in the silly way you’d expect, but angrily, exerting pressure to stick his tongue out because that's how much he detests you. She clutches his arm with her motherly instinct, quickly taking her child to her protection.

You put the groceries on the counter. The smile from the cashier fades quickly. In the two minutes it takes you to pay for your groceries, no smiles are exchanged, no words are spoken, the cashier's eyes locked directly on the keyboard, her fear and judgement pouring out into the atmosphere around you, and you can feel it enter your throat, constricting with every breath. She looks up once to take the money, and in the split second that her eyes are locked on yours, your ears shout the words, “Thief, freak, selfish, inconsiderate, malevolent.” You take the change, saying thank you, and leaving with no response.

The rain trickles down your forehead, the breeze cooling your skin. You look into the windows of shops. Your face is placed everywhere, your name in big large black letters. As you walk, you can feel the eyes of everyone on the street stab you, little pins all over your body, reminding you of how you do not belong, of how the expense of your impulse heavies your burdens. As you make your way down the block, the heads move like a shockwave, turning as you walk by. You flee to an entrance behind a building. You look up, the spiral of a staircase extending far into the height of the building. You take your first step, and then another, creating a pace for yourself. You shake from the looks out on the streets, the disgust, the anger, the judgement. Step after step, you look up, and you see more flights. No matter how many you steps you take, you don't seem to get anywhere, stuck in the same place, more steps to take. It feels like forever that you have been running in circles, from when you were not tall enough to get your shoes from the playground bully, to when you had your math teacher stand over your desk, barking out words, dismantling your strength, word by word.

You let go of your groceries, the bread and butter falling out, tumbling down the stairs. With anger powering every stride, you run to the top, jumping the stairs, tears rolling down your eyes. You knew that it would soon all be over, that no one would ever have to whisper to their friend while staring at you, that no one would have to put you down again, that this escape was something no one could deny you from. You finally burst the door open, the wind and rain stronger, beating down on you. You run to the edge of the building and look down. You can see everyone and everything from here, but in a different way. They were all just little circles walking around, reduced to the colour of their hair and their coats. That’s all they could be from here. Their voices would never be strong enough to reach you now, shielded from their disability, the disability to understand what you had to suffer through the night you found yourself surrounded by police. You cannot stay here forever, though. Eventually you would have to come down the stairs because here was not suitable for anyone to stay. You focus on the people below you once more. You close your eyes once more. All it takes is one last step, and you can feel the escape within your fingertips.