꧁On Autopilot꧂

"Walk. Keep walking," the soothing tone convinced the burdened female.

"It is therapy; it will help to soothe the pain you feel inside. Focus on nature, the slight flex of each muscle, the receding beep within your head, the soft rise and fall of your chest and forget. Stretch your fingers gently, set your eyes straight ahead and empty your mind of its ever-destructive inhabitants.
Feel the worries slip away from you and just relax."

☘︎

THE MENTAL fog descended, slowly, to enshroud her in its tranquil essence and with that, she started to feel more distanced from what was around her.

Yes, this is peace, she hummed, contently.

Setting on a lazy stroll along the sidewalk, she moved, slowly, in time to the summer breeze as the world flashed past her in a timeless loop. Her mind was clear and for once in that busy, tiring day, she thought of nothing.

As she walked on, she made an unconcious turn into Plud Park where she sat down on one of the stone benches to watch the sunset, marvelling at the beauty of its delicate colours. Colours she would love to paint again.

The characteristic orange hue had been replaced by a resplendent lilac lining, whirling around and beyond the bright, fiery orb to create a thunderstorm of energised clouds. They morphed into gigantic pirate ships, flagged on both sides by equally terrifying waves. The cherub sculpture decorating the bowsprit, crowned with a sparkly halo against the darkly tattooed, scraggly, bearded terrors that were the crewmembers was one of great juxtaposition that threatened to overthrow her imaginative musings.

Releasing a breath she had not realised was lodged within her chest; she smirked and scoffed internally at the sneaky ways in which her repressed memories always attempted to bubble up to the surface to entrap her.

No metaphoric representation was ever a coincidence or as a result of a wandering imagination. Every thought, every breath, every movement stood testament to the unresolved emotions that awaited her verdict.

Her judgement of how they affected her and how they could be solved.

She needed to face them, this she was aware of but she would stall it as she always did. She would stifle, crush and avoid as much as she could. Up until there was nothing left of the fragmented memories that plagued her very existence.

Angling her face up to the warm sunshine, she placed both hands behind her back and propped herself on her flattened palms. The gentle rustle of the trees provided sweet music to her ears amidst the muffled tunes of chaotic car horns and animated chatter.

Nonetheless, one such sound, persistent in its sinful ministrations, was able to dislodge the barred gates of her senses. Crossing her legs in a seated position, she turned her head towards the source in annoyance and noticed the culprits some distance away from her.

They were locked around each other in an embrace that was sure to be painful. However, it looked like they were enjoying their passionate kissing more. She noticed they were younger than she was and very much in lust. Their lips smacked so loudly, they made making out look even more disgusting than it already was. She watched them silently until it became apparent that the female was now struggling to breath and tried, but to no avail, to disengage herself from the kiss. Her boyfriend was oblivious to this and deepened the kiss with a content groan.

At this point, she let out a laugh. One that she seldom indulged in and one that was so rumbustious, it called attention to herself.

As expected, they turned their heads together towards her in unison. Almost as if they had planned the action beforehand. The female looked away first, the feeling of embarrassment evident in her facial features. However, the annoyed male tried to stare her down.

Now that she had a clearer view of their individual faces, she hypothesized that the female was much more older than the male. As could be gauged from her heavy make-up and mannerisms.

It was either this or the female had tried hard to mask up her possible status as an underage minor.

Though, the same couldn't be said for the male whose pathetic excuse for body art resembled toddler scribbles.

She returned his cool gaze with a nonchalant demeanour. His eccentric brown eyes bored, menacingly, into her own orbs before he spoke up.

"And what's so funny, huh?" He asked, irritated by the rude interference from the disheveled individual before him.

Ignoring his question and sensing the uncomfortable shift of fabric beside him, her attention was drawn towards his girlfriend, yet again. This time she was able to solve her earlier puzzle and string the apparent pieces together in her head.

Because God forbid she left this place without figuring out the oddity before her. It would certainly keep her up at night.

The female—no Madame was the appropriate term—was in fact older and not an underage minor as she had suspected.

Sporting a pleated skirt with clean tennis shoes, the two side plaits on her head framed an almond-shaped face and her make-up enhanced the façade of youthfulness she sought to project.

However, being the careful observer that she was, she noted that even all that caked-up goodness failed to distract from the faint creases that lined her high forehead.

"Are you dumb or might I have to repeat my earlier question?"

The males' stern voice as well as the impatient click of his fingers pulled her from her observations of his squeamish partner and turning to look at the pissed off youth, she shrugged.

She wasn't one to participate in confrontation much less encourage it. Moreover, she could understand now that he was probably aggravated by the idea that she may have been laughing at the age difference between his girlfriend and himself.

He let out an incredulous scoff and massaged his temple, slowly, before getting up and walking a few paces up to her, threateningly.

The slight, unkept mass of a lady before him was certainly the one for jokes. She continued to peer, lazily, at him from disinterested orbs and regard his frame with comic interest. It was a wonder what she found funny in the terrific artistry of his long-sleeved shirt or in Racheal, his girlfriend, whom her eyes wandered to every now and then.

"Tommy, no need to get all worked up. She doesn't look to be mentally stable so let's just leave," Racheal, pleaded running to catch up with him and placing a perfectly manicured hand on his forearm.

A hesistant countenance graced her attractive, barefaced features as she stood, weary, of the glum looking lady clothed in an oversized black coat. The attire matched the dark circles beneath her sad droopy eyes and her bleak aura was unmissable in the cheerful colours of the park. An eerie speck on an otherwise nicely decorated ornament. So openly had the lady mummured to herself while gesticulating, wildly, to the sunset which she wacthed with neurotic concentration.

Racheal, herself, had thought it odd when she first noticed the crazed-pattern of behaviour but she had subsequently pushed the concerns from her mind and focused solely on her conversations with Tommy. Now, however, it was eerily apparent that the lady was most definately unhinged as she succumbed to a fit of giggles. It was a wonder what she found so funny.

Everything was not as it seemed to the burdened female yet everything was as it seemed. The lines between reality and imagination had been blurred greatly. Thus, it stood to be questioned of who was indeed the oddity between herself and the couple she scrutinized.

She trailed her gaze down Racheal once again and realeased a set of giggles at the image before her. This time, white-temple hair stuck out from under the Madame's horrendous wig and her face had morphed into a replica of the buffoonish Bozo Clown.

The male teenager, who was no older than nineteen, shrugged the clown off and stalked towards the stone bench with a crazed look. "What Is So Darn Funny?" He dragged out with a clenched jaw.

So aware of her surroundings was she that she sensed the tight clasp of his fist, the steady thrum of his jugular vein against his spiked choker and the feverent utterances of his partner as she tried to calm the frenzy that was about to overcome him.

Also, with his gothic inspired outfit and the venom he clearly harboured, Tommy as a name just sounded downright ridiculous.

She let out an uncontrolled chuckle in the midst of the hullabaloo and this time his nose flared up in anger.

She couldn't blame him. To him it looked like she wasn't taking him seriously at all and he was right.

Really of all the names he could bear it just had to be Tommy. Not Ryder, Blade, Vlader or something more intimidating but Tommy.

As in Timothy, the first of his name. Sweetheart of cougar clowns and canvas for impish pupil doodles.

Her frame rumbled with another laughter to the confusion of the couple in front of her. She brought a finger to her eye to rid it of a stray tear and looked up to them, grateful that they had spared her the chance to have a good laugh. Even if it was at their expense.

"I told you she was a nutcase," Racheal whispered to Tommy, dragging him backwards lest she bit him or did whatever nutcases would do in situations like this.

"That would explain this weirdo," he agreed, walking backwards with her. The earlier ominous aura dissipating from his eyes to be replaced by a child-like innocence.

And she was the nutcase, she thought. What a joke. The guy looked and acted as about as stable as an infant's neck.

Baring her teeth with a hiss and a prolonged cross of her eyes, she taunted them further with the idea that she was indeed a nutcase and wacthed as they made for the park exit with hurried yet collected steps. Looking back ever so often to make sure she didn't trail along.

For the Madames' sake, whose name she didn't get, she hoped Tommy was indeed old enough or the cougar clown was one mug shot away from a paedophilic charge.

Especially considering the fact that she could recreate what the couple looked like down to the T and tipp off the officials with their identifying information, anonymously.

She could but she wouldn't.

Something told her that Tommy was in the same league as her demons. Unstable, volatile and dangerous. These were elements she steered clear of. In fact, how she escaped being beaten to a pulp was truly beyond her.

Taking a quick sweep of her surroundings, she finally registered that she was the only one left in the park. She got up, gently stretching and grateful for the minutes she was able to stay worry free. Then she trudged on towards her apartment.

The few minutes she had spent at the park had deafened her ears to the activities going on around her and she couldn't help but notice how noisy and disoriented the streets were.

The speakers of the cars were on full blast, the horns of the taxis blared so loudly she almost ran deaf. The bus drivers and car owners were at it again. Swear words were thrown at each other like ice pellets during hail, as their cars crawled slowly along Simmonds Street.

Their anger and impatience were evident and, probably due to the heat or her imagination, she could almost see the steam rising from their head and ears. It resembled the angry cartoon characters' emotional outbursts she watched as a young girl.

The fumes from the vehicles together with their impatience formed a thick cloud of mist above them, so that the scenery before her looked like an angry town trapped in a globe with dark feelings that swirled around when shaken.

As she continued her stroll along the street to her apartment, she saw into the car of a family. The mother was desperately trying to calm her wailing infant down as well as settle the argument between her two older children who were causing a ruckus at the back seat.

The father was engaged in a heated 'insult sparring match' with the driver in front and so the mother was left to deal with the problem on her own. Just two cars away from them was a nice vehicle occupied by young adults who danced in high spirits to the beat of a high tempo rock music.

Everything made sense now. It was a Friday today and the obvious reason behind the impatience, insults and merriment.

Most people were eager to commence with the welcoming in of the weekend while outliers like herself and the tired mother just wanted to recover from the hard week.

The stand-still traffic was clearly delaying those plans.

She continued to walk on until she got to her apartment. As expected, the entrance was blocked with the apartments' residents together with their accomplices.

She regarded them as accomplices and not friends because tonights' moonlight calm was bound to be disrupted by their bawdy songs and the surroundings littered by the evidence of their extensive indulgence.

The loudspeakers were ready and blaring, the drinks flowed out steadily from the liquor store across the street and their coordination deteriorated rapidly as they slurred their words and tripped on their feet. The ladies kept the gents entertained with sultry dancing and quiet lewd conversations.

She fixed her face into that default stony, nonchalant, don't-mess-with-me look and endeavoured into their midst. Most of them didn't mind her mild interruption, but she got some looks which she didn't return. There was absolutely no use for a staring competition. She was tired already and had had her fill of uncontrolable laughter and morphing faces.

Entering the apartment, she grunted a greeting to the security guard, as was routine, and took the lift alone. She opened the door to her room and promptly shut her door against the impatience, heat, high spirits, merriment, hustle and bustle to recede into the cold, lonely, quiet place she called home.

Her cloak of worries, fear and sadness was never far off, being the one constant as everpresent as the shadow that slinked past her darkened walls. Only today, the flickering light in the apartment existed in the whisper of a smile that graced her face at the memory of couple clowns with body scribbles and disgusting but entertaining make out sessions.
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