She gazed onto the cold black and white checkered kitchen tiles and loathed them for their cleanliness. The stainless ground seems to have captured their presence through memories playing over and over again like vivid reflections taunting her for keeping up a household that inhabited no one but herself. She could still smell her husbands coffee as he stood leaning casually against the countertop, newspaper in one hand, coffee in the other and that ever present smile at the taste which she’d perfected over the months he’d been away at war. Her sons bright eyes looking down at the plate in her hands. He saw a peanut butter jelly sandwich without crust while she saw her heart on a plate, now completely empty. Before she left for her appointment at the clinic she made sure to empty her cold cup of coffee onto the spotless floor to leave what was once clean and comforting in splatters of potent dirt, misty water and halve ground coffee beans.

Her kitten heels were loud against the sterile entrance hall although nothing seemed audible over the silence which had taking over her heart and managed to engulf her body whole like a second epidermis. A familiar Doctor with an obscenely white lab coat approached her,

“Hello Mrs. Johnson we have been expecting you! Are you ready for your last consultation before the procedure?” He spoke confidently with an excited smile etched upon his lips.

“Hello, Yes I am ready and ... Please...it’s Miss now,” she spoke up softly as she could almost sense the pity brewing up inside his gut. The same pity that had followed her over the past years from each and every one of her neighbours in a town that felt like a misplaced home. She wasn't Meredith Johnson, wife to Niklas Johnson and Mother to Samuel Johnson anymore. She had died along with them in the car crash on the way to school. She remained the poor widow, and now she shall kill her too. Transformed into a mere experiment sacrificed to full-fill a scientific success story or form a tragic failure accompanied by fatality. She couldn’t help but come to think about how the recklessness due to bliss for the end of war and something as small as an absent Seatbelt would come to her entire life’s demise.

"Please come in and sit down,” the doctor encouraged her as he flashed his pearly white teeth with pure excitement. After she settled into the uncomfortable wooden chair before the doctor, he continued:

"I know we have gone over the risks of this procedure often enough but i’ll have to remind you that although testing trails have been successful that mustn’t mean a thing. Complications are an inevitable variable in scientific Breakthrough experiments like these. Do you understand that Miss Johnson?" He inquired as if she had the choice to change her mind after signing the contracts weeks before they’d started preparing her for procedures.

“I am aware,” She repeated like a broken record, she couldn’t remember how often they had reminded her off this factor.

“Good, does that mean you have made your peace with whoever you intended to?" he probed.

"Yes I have made peace with my life,” she returned with finality, completely disregarding the idea in which there was anybody left to farewell when agreeing to this experiment in the first place.

"Alright, So about the procedure; After you have been successfully set unconscious we will inject your body with a chemical that prevents blood clotting while your body is frozen. Your blood will be replaced with a fluid that allows us to preserve your organs until you are ready to be awoken in a few years down the line. We are hoping that our technology will be ready for that in about 20 years, you will remain your age and nothing should change about your appearance should you…,” He looked up from his many forms. His eyes seeking for something unknown in hers.

"..Should I wake up at all,” she completed the hesitant sentence hanging from his lips.

"Yes" he let out accompanied by small breath, ”But I have full faith in our ever evolving scientific abilities.You and the other test subjects will make history along us Miss Johnson." he declared.

"When you wake up you will be provided with the already agreed on necessities like an apartment and salary for your services until 15 years after we have successfully integrated you back into society. This will be enforced by courses taught by a special unit of our facility which are prepared along side the years you are frozen,” he informed her.

"Do you have any more questions for me Miss Johnson?" he inquired, exuberant to start the procedure.

"No doctor I am ready"

The last thing she felt was heavy eyes and her body becoming light.

———————————————————————————————————

"I think test subject 9 is waking up Doctor!” Silent rumble intensified as her eyes opened slowly, which felt like they had been glued shut for eternity. She was greeted by light, bright light. Where was she? It couldn’t have been heaven, Heaven was calm, quiet and comforting, at least in her mind. This was far from it. The hassle unfolded before her as she tried to engage the aching muscles in her brittle body the support her into a up right position.

Before her stood dozens of people, presumably nurses and doctors who soon applauded selfishly as the weak women tried her best to greet the outstretched hand of one of the doctors. Possibly to congratulate himself rather than her for surviving.

"Congratulations Meredith Johnson, you are one of 13 patients who have successfully awoken from being cryogenically frozen for the first time in history, Welcome to 2019!" he proclaimed.

Her eyes unwillingly burst open and her mind rattled at the mention of time, had she truly been asleep for almost seventy years?

———————————————————————————————————

“Soo…I think we have completed everything. Your vitals are fabulous, the psychological analysis was more than satisfactory and you’ve seem to have caught on quite fast with our little 2019 crash course. All over you seem to be in good shape to be let go. You have received the folder containing bank information, necessary addresses, phone numbers, post check up appointments and classes, right?” The Doctor insured.

"Yes doctor I am in possession of it all,” Her voice sounded strange like it belonged to someone else as do her eyes that still viewed this experience as a mere fever dream.

"Great! Now we have provided you with a personal driver to guide you back to your apartment, we have taken the liberty to decorate it I hope it is all to your liking. The rest of your necessary Information was placed on your kitchen counter next to maps of the city and brochures of places you might like to visit such as parks, museums and restaurants. Of course your fridge is stocked for the next 2 days so you won’t have to leave the house unless you’d really want to. If you need anything at all don't hesitate to call the hotline we have prepared for our test sub- I mean for our patients, I do apologise.” He almost stuttered the last part due to his Faux-pas.

"No Doctor it is quite alright. Thank you for everything and congratulations again on your success."

"OUR success Mrs. Johnson!” he exclaimed proudly.

“Yes of course…One more thing Doctor,” she stoped at last,

”Would it be possible to deny the chauffeur? I would like to take a walk and see the world and its changes for myself if that isn’t too much to ask.”

He hesitated for a moment and then concluded: " Well since your post procedure check ups have been exemplary I suppose it will be alright but please keep the provided telephone close, you do remember how to use it, right?"

"Yes, Sir I do" she replied.

“And Mrs. Johnson?” He exclaimed as he studied her physic.

"Yes Doctor?" She questioned.

"Are you sure you don't want to change into something...more fitting for this decade, we have provided you with clothes after-all,” He cautiously asked, unsuccessfully, trying not to step on her toes with his out of place remark.

She looked towards her nude kitten heels and the tea length black swing dress she wore and replied softly:

"No sir I’m quite comfortable like this but thank you for your concern.”

“Alright…” he said sounding unsure of his own reply.

———————————————————————————————————

After 2 weeks of post procedure consultations, checkups and analysis’s she was finally able to pass through the halls she came in by 67 years ago.

The chauffeur provided her with the keys to her apartment and a city plan along with her address inserted into her new mobile phone. She was rather excited about this new technology it was like holding her own tiny Tv in colour that bended to all her desires with the mere touch of a finger. The virtual map on the screen calculated her walk home, exactly eighteen minutes. The first step into this newly found world of hers was enthralling, she took a deep breath which was quickly regretted as the stench of garbage and gas penetrated her nostrils.

As she took in the scenery, all she saw was buildings reaching up endlessly, a barley visible sky blurred behind smog build by a city created by mankind. Everything felt so tight as if she never left her previous occupation as a lab rat. Noise all over dominating her fragile ears. The city boomed with screeching sirens, honking horns and pretty people. If the clinic hadn’t explained the concept of bluetooth earbuds used to converse handsfree over the phone she might’ve feared the people passing by her just escaped form an inpatient treatment. She reminded herself to stay open minded, after all she was the odd one out. Like a dress hanging on the sales rack for months on end until its finally thrown away or donated because it just dint fit the style of the time.

She starred across the streets and upon the buildings, they where worn down, cold and uninviting but plastered in bright colours, lights and copious screens playing advertisements. It almost seemed as though the life that brought the once unmoving posters to life was taken right out the people walking down the busy streets. They were dressed to impress in luxurious robes and suits, even the ones in casual attire seemed to have put a lot of thought in their clothing coordination. Still their faces held empty stares at screens or sharp eyes pointed towards an invisible goal in their path ahead. It was rather fascinating how the people mirrored their city.

She was ripped away from her observation by a shrill voice:

" Oh my! Nice dress, soo vintage, were did you get it?"

She smiled acknowledging the young women.

"Oh thank you very much my husband bought it for my birthday at Macy’s Flagship Department Store,”

"Wow you really are very vintage,” she laughed,

"No one ever goes there anymore, it’s so outdated" then she walks off.

Meredith was evidently confused at the women, she thought she liked the dress for its old flare why was she so amused at the fact the shop was outdated? A small tug inhabited her heart at the memory of the dress.

"Watch out you old hag!” she was shook as a boy not older than ten pushed past her towards a bench. First she thought about telling him off herself but settled to turn to his mother, after all it wasn’t her job to lecture someone else's son.

She turned to the women next to the boy wearing a suit. As odd as she might’ve perceived her choice of clothing she refrained from commenting. She wouldn’t like to do on others what had made herself feel uncomfortable just moments ago.

"Im sorry Ma’am?… Ma’am?” the women acknowledged her with a strange look.

“I don't have any spare change,” was all she said before turning back around. Stunned Meredith replied:

"What? No…I don't need any change..."

"Look Honey I’m really busy, if you need directions ask someone else or plan your holiday better, I’m no tour guide” The uninterested women exclaimed rather annoyed.

"Excuse me ma’am i’m only trying to inform you of your sons unbelievably disrespectful behaviour towards his elders but now I am quite well aware of where he inherited it,” Meredith declared now done with her response to the situation.

The women stepped closer to Meredith.

"Now you listen here sweetheart thats not my son but if it were I would high five him for whatever he did that got your panties in a twist. I don't know what movie set you just got lost from but here you earn your respect instead of trying to shove your entitlement down everyone’s throat,” and with that the women hailed a cab before vanishing.

The scene which had just unfolded, a boy running around the city by himself and the women's completely misplaced insults had for the first time since she left the clinic pushed Meredith to feel utterly out of place.

Was she entitled because she expected respect and kindness?

Was she out of place to feel the need to be treated like she would treat others?

Was she at fault or have people in this town just become cynical and self-serving?

As much as she tried to dismay the situation on her now seemingly endless walk home, she couldn’t help but feel frustration pick at her heart. She wasn't entitled. She lost everything and just longed for respect no matter how poor or old or lost she seemed. Was that too much to ask, to be treated like a human being? While anger slowly climbed up the walls of her throat a younger gentlemen, seemingly in a rush, bumped into her almost dragging both parties to the ground.

Without thinking she raised her voice:

“Can’t you watch out?”

His face flushed as he tried to pick up his now broken glasses but instead of getting angry his face looked guilt ridden. Scarred almost.

"I-I Im so sorry Ma’am I didn't intend to- I didn’t-" He said failing mid sentence and running of in a hurry. Merediths now regret filled eyes tried to seek him out in the crowd.

”Oh No I am so sorry I didn't mean to come off as so rude" she screamed after him.

She was petrified at her reaction. As if her earlier encounters had hatched an egg inside her chest like a disease feeding off of her bitterness passing it onto everyone she came in contact with.

———————————————————————————————————

When she finally arrived at her apartment building and glossed over its worn down and uninviting walls, one of many in the industrial sea she called her city, her expectation of its interior were kept to a minimum. But to her surprise after she opened the excessive locks littering the door of her new place it was warm, and cosy, and somehow lovely. She was greeted by the smell of flowers and a sense of comfort. She couldn’t help but think about today, of her rather unpleasant interactions and the people involved. Could their uninviting cold demeanour hold secret gardens of warmth and solitude, hidden behind copious amounts of locks too in order to protect their hearts from thieves and danger? Maybe she expected too much of these strangers. She treated them like her old neighbourhood, the doors wide open, a trusting community who’s downfall now inevitably seemed to be their own fault. She huffed in exhaustion then made her way to the kitchen where she was greeted by all to familiar black and white checkered tiles. Like a board of chess in a game against her grief. It had followed her into a world closed off and lost at the hands of isolating destruction. For the first time she realised she couldn’t change the cards life had dealt her but she could however decide which steps to take in order to move on. To not let Trauma cage her heart in like a city without a visible sky, a city with already to many closed off inhabitants to count. Sixty-seven years had past and she remained stuck on a black, tainted by grief field on the chess board of her past ,

now reaching beyond the horizon with opportunity due to scientific success. She was the queen, all doors were open to her. She just had to remember it.

———————————————————————————————————

*beep* *beep* *bee-*

“Hello Mrs. Johnson its a pleasure to hear from you already, have you arrived home safely? Is everything to your liking?” the operator of the hotline provided to her by the clinic greeted happily.

“Hello yes everything is fine and please... call me Meredith, Im Meredith.” she replied warmly.

“Oh.. okay if you insist,” he was weary but his voice was laced with a hint gratitude.

“I’m just calling because I have an inquiry about the kitchen tiles.”

"Yes of course what can I help you with?” He asked.

"Could it be possible to change them to all white?” she asked sheepishly.

“Of course but may I ask why? Don’t you like them?” The operated questioned.

“No they are lovely but... it would look...fresher.... like a fresh start you know?” She explained.

“I completely understand Mrs- ...Meredith. I’ll send someone up right in the morning tomorrow.” She could hear a smile tugging at his lips.

“Have a nice evening Meredith” he bid farewell.

“Thank you. You do too.” She replied before ending the call.

On a Sunday afternoon at the park a little girl grasps onto monkey bars like the metal of them clutches onto the suns warmth. She tries to get a hold of the next bar but her auburn hair lightened by the rays of what seems to be an ever present friend falls into her face shielding any sense of sight. So she slips and

drops

and

cries.

This was the first time she wanted to cut her hair. She didn’t need it for it was only an obstacle to her happiness.

A year later her hair had grown back to what was once the root of her pain. She kneeled on the colourful carpet in her kindergarten group and brushed through her dolls luscious long locks when she felt a tug on her head followed by a sharp noise. As she stood up and turned around her eyes caught a boy with bright eyes and big smile holding onto a ponytail, her ponytail. With dowy eyes,

she

drops

and

cries.

This was the first time she wanted her hair back, long and luscious like the the ones on her dolls head she brushed moments ago.

A few years pass and the girl stands before her mirror wiping away and reapplying a strawberry gloss to her to her lips before meeting a boy to proclaim her ever growing love to him. She wasn’t quite sure, was it too much? She settled for the sticky gloss as if it would make her confession sound sweeter to his ears. It didn’t. Somehow a small anticipated interaction turned into the cause for her world to loose all its color. She runs home, shuts the door and

drops

and

cries.

This was the first time she wanted to color her hair, if she couldn’t see the world in color she could at least try to become one of them.

A few years pass and the girl sits on her bed, everything is quiet. The halls her mother used to roam were a constant reminder of her absence. The safest place for her tired heart was her bed which imitated the warmth and comfort her mothers arms used to give. Sometimes she tries to get up and function despite her grief. But she is too weak so she

drops

and

cries.

This was the first time she wanted her natural hair color back as her reflection stared back at her through the glass of the picture frame which held the little girl and her mother, both blue eyed and brunette.

The girl is now a women. She just came home from work and decides to shower. She works with kids and writes poetry and songs on the side. She just bought 24 new black ball point pens which seem to drain out by themselves every week but its okay she can afford it, she can take care of herself now. As she stands in front of the mirror brushing her long dark brown hair still drenched from the shower she

stops

and

smiles.

This is the first time she doesn’t want to change her hair, it holds no recollection of past haircuts or bleach and color damage, it has all grown out. Her hair is healthy and strong, as is she.

When I was just a young child, pushing away the dirt in my way to sprout, thirsty for water and knowledge and sunlight I strived to feel warmth and be consumed by wildlife. I conjured a need to breath fresh air but at some point growing became harder as I realised dirt wasn’t the only thing in my way. Like other branches fighting for dominance trying to inhabit a place that belonged to no-one but life itself. I thought the sticks and stones in my way up couldn’t break my bones until I learned the concept of anatomy and that literary devices such as metaphors aren’t meant to be taken literal. I learned that nothing is really said as is and soon the lies caught up to me until one day I felt as if I was growing the wrong direction. As if I hadn’t learned anything at all and used the saying “ let the earths core swallow me whole” literal. I embraced the cold and made a home in darkness reassuring myself that this world wasn’t meant to make everyone happy therefore we all adapted to its circumstances over the years.

So I adapted. I let my skin soak up the cold so I wouldn’t need a sweater or a friend or a hug. I let my eyes adjust to the darkness so my glasses were redundant and the colour-blindness I acquired over the years underground felt normal. The once faint outlines in the dark transformed into intricate mosaics which I could study for days on end in the dark, alone. Through this stage in life I learned a lesson that I have yet to forget.

Find beauty in the darkest moments.

Now that I am older and wiser but still not whole I look back at my once pasty white body littered in freckles and moles and marks like a old used book and I see a blessing. The freckles that never stopped abundantly appearing turned into angels kisses that only ceased for I have finally learned how to blossom on my own. The marks transformed into a reminder to use this body with pride driven by a destiny created by wherever endorphins may flourish.

After all these years of adapting and adjusting my eyesight to various gradients of light I can finally see that this old used book was always the home of my favourite story

and I can see that all without glasses,

and all in color.

Love is a distant memory that I don’t like to stopover because I can never remember every detail of it, just like a dream in which I merely revisit the feeling inside my chest. It is so strong that it knocks the wind out of my lungs and I can’t breath for a moment. As if that love was so truthful and mighty that my past, present and future self have to lend its entire being to the reminder of its occurrence or else I might collapse into one blissfully sweet heartbreak. Everything embedded in silk and sorrow, comfort and contempt and of course warmth paired with never ending wickedly distasteful wistfulness.

Unrequited love.

There was something rather tragic about how her quivering lips tried to keep up with the empty promises stumbling out of her mouth accompanied by a breath she didn’t long to keep now or perhaps ever. Her poor heart must’ve been so tired and unappreciated working over time on a body that’s been hopelessly abandoned by the only lover it ever encountered. The only affection provided by the romantisation of her own sadness. As if it was a pool she didn’t want to drown in but rather relax her tensed muscles as life passed by and all she did was lay there. Lay in her own guilt and regret and anger. But how could one be so angry yet so non reactive, how infuriating it must be to go out of your way to anger someone and get nothing in response. All your energy given up on someone who could care less about you. That’s how her body must feel. It clenches her throat when she smokes to much. It drops her when she refuses to eat. It drills into her brain when she drowns herself in liquor. It punches her in the gut when she decides to throw up again. It cries out bloody murder when she hurts herself on purpose. Her body tries it’s best to make her see what she is doing wasn’t fair. And still it never seems to be enough. Ironic how they both don’t feel enough.

I always thought

“I can’t live without you!" was one of the most romantic confessions imaginable. Now that ive met her, I could'nt recall a sadder tale.

Romeo and Julia had nothing on the tragedy that was she and her body.

My thoughts on abductions, as little as they existed in my mind were always tainted by bitter fear. All sorts of negative connotations led me to believe that stealing, ripping away ones freedom and decision making process was one the cruelest acts forced upon another. The mere image of being caged in at the hands of someone was unfathomable until I revisited my former years and realised I had in fact experienced a situation resembling an abduction before.

When I turned seventeen I opened my eyes after blowing out the candles at 16:19pm and expected the world to glow in a pinkish tint of opportunity and confidence. One year older, one year wiser, one year closer to wreak havoc on structures designed to hold me back from thinking for myself disguised by the usual trope of safekeeping. Of course the following days I learned that a specific time coinciding with my birth wouldn’t change my mindset let alone view on life but hope boomed through every corridor that my enthusiastic feet and naive heart accompanied it. But as all things have an end the freedom pulsating through my veins left one night almost as fast as the candles extinguished by the air inside my lungs on the bitter sweet birthday cake. The threat came late at night silently creeping up on me. The darkness seemed so loud I didn’t realise I let someone in on accident nor how close he was. He snapped my neck so fast away from what felt real that my face held a permanent state of emptiness. Then he threw me into a cell that looked just like my room but colder. My sketchbooks sat right were I left them on my desk and my old brushes still had my name engraved but as I tried to guide them across the blank canvas my hand felt heavy. My guitar still hung above my book shelve but every strum sounded out of tune as if i'd just forgotten how to play my favourite melody. I moved to open my door and to my surprise the absence of a lock was as clear as the absence of warmth in this imitation of a home. As I walked out realisation hit that I had never left. My parents still sat in the living room sipping on a chilled glass of white wine discussing my aunts generous gift of baked goods she brought over just hours earlier.

He came so effortlessly. Taking my freedom without taking anything at all. As if I signed away my choices and happily obliged when he told me to stay in bed for days or when he told me not to eat or when he told me I did not need to shower or take care of myself, no one would see me anyways.

But anytime I did unwillingly see myself all I saw was him. My abducter.

Keeping me hostage in a body once so full of life and hope for a future that after this night seemed like a distant dream a child would elaborte on when asking what they’d want to be when they grew up.

Funny thing how growing up was the furthest from a dream at the mere age of seventeen.