Fear: Fight Or Flight?

Limbo was a rather peculiar place.

It was neither beyond the stunning, soft twinkling of stars above me and it wasn't filled with flames and perpetual torture.

No, instead I found myself just five centimetres from my potential death.

The scene of my murder gave me such a sensation. It was as if my very soul was being chilled. I could barely manage a glance to my body, never mind a glance to who could be my murderer.

How did I end up like this?

As if Limbo bended to my will, the scene before me which was frozen in time managed to slowly rewind. I simply couldn't look at my face while the events rewound, so I bit my lip and dreaded the moment when I would be forced to watch. As the day flew by me backwards, I kept my eyes on the window and let a tear slowly crawl down my cheek as I watched the night become twilight, and twilight become sunset.

I opened the door with my key just as the sun shone low beneath the snow-topped pine trees. I had to fumble around a little bit, as I couldn't manage to pull the little gold key out of my purse with my admittedly chunky gloves. I cursed, and gave up trying with my gloves on. My fingers immediately met the icy temperature as they pulled the key free into the winter air.

After standing outside for a long time from walking home from the school choir meeting, my cheeks were flushed with the cold, and my scarf was pulled right above my nose. You could only just see my eyes, as they were half covered by my father's large hat.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, just in front of the doorway, I shook all the snow off of my clothes and my boots and stuck the key in the back of the front door. The warmth was so beautiful to come home to, and it was just as beautiful to come home with fresh, warm bread already baking in the oven.

My little sister was only three years old, as well as her twin brother. Hazel and Finley peaked at me from behind the door, and I giggled at their appearance. They both had flour and various other bread ingredients strewn across their clothes, and a faint trace of snow could be found on their auburn hair.

"India!" they both squeaked, and pulled me towards the kitchen.

It took a fair bit of effort; their tiny legs could barely keep themselves up, never mind pull a fourteen year old girl behind them.

They directed me towards the oven, which was filled to the brim with baked goods.

My mother was busy pulling some chapatti out for me, and she gave me a sheepish smile as I stared in wonder of how the trio had managed to bake so much bread in one day.

My mother was only 32 years old, she gave birth to me when she was just 18 and often told me of how many thought it was too young, but she and Dad just thought it was more time they got to spend with me. She had a habit of dying her hair many different colours, and quite liked the subtle purple colour she sported at the moment. As you'd expect of a 32 year old, she looked stunning and young, but my favourite features on her face were her laugh lines. I had always loved her smile, and I'd make her laugh on purpose when I was young just so I could see it.

She noticed I was shivering slightly from the cold, and ushered me into one our plush chairs in the living room. I barely had time to bat an eyelid when I was wrapped in several blankets, and had hot chocolate and warm chapatti thrust at me.

The evening was passing by me quickly. By 7pm, I was tucking in Hazel and Finley in their beds, and reading them the next chapter in their abnormally large collection of Horrid Henry books. Hazel was drifting off, and I tugged a little strand of bronze hair and tucked it behind her little, elfin ears. As for Finn, he was laying on his bed flat-out on his back and snoring little squeaks. I let myself giggle and turned on their nightlights, before returning downstairs to share the sofa with my mother.

I had to smile for a moment, being in Limbo was quite cool for this second in time. Trust me to spend my potential last moments re-watching my favourite TV programmes with my mother. We were huddled close on the sofa, underneath the blankets. Unfortunately, our central heating had died on us, so we were barely warm even when we were pressed together under layers of blankets.

It was only when I got up to go to bed for school in the morning, when I caught myself in the mirror before going upstairs. I sighed unhappily at my dark curtain I called hair. It had become well and truly messed up and I could barely make out my eyes underneath the hazard. I used my hand to push my hair out of the way -not unlike how I had done for Hazel- when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It was some silvery spectre leaning against the doorway, catching last glimpses of Big Brother before turning around and facing me.

I realised now, it was me facing myself.

Naturally, I didn't know at the time. I didn't know I was going to end up dead in just a matter of hours.

I remember I woke up from my slumber to a rustling noise downstairs. Cautiously, I silenced myself in case things could go wrong.

If I only knew!

Without a single sound, I grabbed my slippers to muffle my footfall. My heart was thumping, and I blindly walked past a possible weapon; my clarinet. I proceeded to open my bedroom door as I heard the rustling continue somewhere in the living room.

As a wild precaution, I dared myself to grab Hazel and Finn and tuck them safely in my mother's bed. Somehow -bizarrely- I managed with plenty of time to spare. I had barely moved a single hair out of place, and they were fast asleep....they were safe.

I only planned to go downstairs and peak at what was going on, then I could go back upstairs and pretend to be non-existent as the burglar stole what little we had to our name. Instead, I stumbled on the last stair; I tripped over a bobble attached to my slippers by a piece of pale pink ribbon.

Panicking, I ran flat-out into the kitchen, knowing that if he or she knew my presence from my falling, I may as well attempt to stop them.

Food?

That's what they were stealing?

I had no time to pity the heavily pregnant lady, a woman who had probably started to steal as a last resort to feed herself and her baby. Perhaps there were more relatives at home. Perhaps she was homeless?

I had no time at all.

I had no time before she pulled out a gun, and the loud bang echoed around the room; I had no time before I was being murdered.

But, here's the thing. The natural reaction to this is to be terrified, yes?

Well it's true, I was.

In Limbo, watching this a second time around was just as terrifying. I managed to make a glance at myself, and at the woman. The woman was just turning around to look at who she'd shot. I saw the utmost guilt and fear in her eyes. As for me? I was in thought, which I suppose is what lead me here.

Now as I said before, here is the thing:

I wasn't scared of dying.

No, I was still scared. But not of dying. Instead I felt anticipation of where I would belong in death. What I was scared of, was watching my future slip away.

I couldn't stand the thought. Everything I'd ever dreamed about could be taken away in a few moments, when time unfroze once again. What would become of my family? Who'd look out for them? Parents shouldn't have to bury their children, it was supposed to be the other way around. Finn and Hazel would grow up without an older sister to guide them through the ups and downs of life. My friends would cry and miss me (or so I hope) and my parents....they would never forgive this woman for taking my life from me, and taking everything I could ever be away from me. She came here to steal, but I bet she never thought she'd be stealing; a life, a future, a daughter, a cousin, a granddaughter, a sister, a niece, a singer, a friend, a first kiss, a first heartbreak, a prom date, a girlfriend, a dance in the rain, a wife, a mother and a grandmother all away from my present family, and a family I could have had.

I was truly filled with nothing but a torturous terror. All of these things I could never have a chance of fulfilling. All of these things would never happen, and my family and friends would grow up and live without me. I couldn't stand it, and my heart started to weep.

But one last fear of mine came to my mind, there was one single thing that forced me into my decision of life or death.

Hazel and Finley could grow up, have all their lives ahead of them, but they might never even know or recall ever having an older sister.

I was so fearful, and sobbing my heart out because of it, that I didn't notice Limbo morph into a room filled with nothing but two doors.

One was simply entitled "Fight?" and the other was entitled "Flight?"

So it was all down to a decision.

I could choose to fight for my life and leave my life to a hospital to guard. I could fight for my life and regain everything this pregnant burglar was about to snatch away from my fingertips. I could fight for my life and find a way to never be forgotten.

Or I could choose flight. I could give up, and give into the fear that was about to blind me. The chances were fear would stick me to the spot and prevent me from moving. And if I couldn't move, I'd be dead before I hit the floor. Even if I chose to fight, what if fear made my life flee from the world? I could give up, and let my death be the way I was going to be immortal; immortal in memory.

I stepped towards the door.
To embrace the fear, or let it get the better of me?

Fear: Fight or Flight?


*I'm so sorry for when the paragraphs REFUSED to work :(*