Inside Out

"Urrggh" he had done it again. The man in him had diminished exponentially, as always anyway. He struggled to stand, a can of jelly had firmer contents than what should have been to his legs. Looking around, as he waited for life to flow back, he tried to find his bearing. He readied himself for the Herculean task that was fast proving to be. Birds chirping, enjoying as he was, the cool breeze of the morning. It was a beautiful time to be alive. Bovrow, at this time of year, was quite hot, the lazy glare from the slowly rising sun was a testament to that. One glance and he knew he had done it again. Alone in the middle of the woods, little or nothing left of his clothes, and of course, the soreness. These signs having been checked, he affirmed even further. He certainly had done it. Something scurried along, reminding him to do the same, as he wasn't a sight for sore eyes. When does this get easy, he asked himself. Sitting there, he slowly reflected on his life and the past couple of days. Richmond Harrison, proud heir to the Harrison dynasty. Only son of Ferdinand and Roselyn Harrison— he spit inwardly as he thought of all that had caused him. He chuckled softly as he pictured the looks on his parents' faces if they saw their son now. That made him happy. He was still bare-bodied on the floor, the cold had started to creep in. Thankfully, he could feel his leg again. It was time to stand. One would think he should be used to this. He knew for a fact that it 'didn't' take some getting used to. But he also didn't have the time nor the strength to sulk. He was too tired. Looking around in search of his clothes, hoping to find them close. There were times when he didn’t take off all his clothes, and times it wasn’t too far from. Luck smiled on him this time as he found his clothes on the ground, at the foot of a maple tree. As he struggled to stand, he looked down at his legs, lazily admiring them, as they shook. Thankful for his leg length and body ratio, he stood fully. With arms akimbo, he didn't know what to expect just as much as he didn't know where he was. Walking was a sure bet. He’d done this before. He only needed to get to the road, no way he had walked that far. Hearing the sounds of moving vehicles, he paused at a creek he recognized, thankful he was not entirely lost. He was getting so good at this. In retrospect, he realized that of his 29 years, happiness could only be recalled 15 of them. Everyone liked to assume they understood what he went through. Of the lot of them, he thought only of his mother. His beautiful, angelic mother. She had suffered, she had been made to suffer. Placing a foot on the log to check for balance, he hurried along, not planning on getting wet. If he was lucky, there were days when a search party was sent with his name on their lips but those days were long gone. He was barely seen these days even to warrant that. He wouldn’t be needing that as he was very close to the road now. He liked to think that there wasn’t a place on earth he couldn’t find, as long as there was a road and his cell phone. Feeling his pockets, he noticed his phone was not with him but that was no surprise. He couldn’t have walked that far. Reaching the road, he broke into a smile as he noticed he wasn’t too far from home. Home, his place of solitude, comfort, and a general hideout. He had a long day the day before, he was certain he wouldn't have had space for a long episode. He didn’t have a watch or any means of telling time but it was clearly the early hours of the morning. As was the custom in the Harrison home, his mum should be up waiting on her morning tea. And his dad might be on a walk anywhere on the estate. No way he could risk running into any of them. That would get everyone into a frenzy. Having done this a thousand times, he could do this closing his eyes. A mansion like theirs had more than one entrance. Now all he had to do was to target the least visited one. Now that was a doodle. He just had to make his way to the one exit nobody used, the fire exit. They had only used the fire exit once that he knew of. And that was because he, on one of his episodes, had started a fire. Making his way to that door always brought back the memories he tried to suppress. A wise man said ‘’the scariest memories are the ones you don’t remember.’’ He is that wise man. His mum believed in aesthetics, every part of the house was adorned with beautiful flowers. She always talked about how life was hard enough, one should look around and feel visually pleased. What she didn’t say was that all of that was for him, to create an ‘’outside environment’’ for him when he had one of his episodes. He had reached the door. It was as old as the house itself. It was old and moldy but had floral designs on the knob that screamed ‘’old money’’. Some said he was born with a silver spoon, if only they knew how far from the truth they were. It made a soft creak as he opened it, he used it more often than anyone imagined so that sound wasn’t from a lack of use. It wasn’t a lot of space, just enough for average-sized adults to run side by side. He walked in silence, not because he feared anyone would catch him, quite frankly, he was tired of talking to himself and being the only company he had. It seemed like that was all he did nowadays. ‘’Hello’’