Running Out

"This was a moment I knew I would remember for the rest of my life."


Great. So what do I write now? I wish my fingers would stop shaking, I can't hold the pen properly.  I shouldn't be this afraid, not for the Junior Cert! Oh no. No no no no no no no no no

I can't do this.

I can't do this.

I can't.

Ok, let's just be reasonable here, right? What exam did you have yesterday? History, that's right, history. Your person in history was on a person in ancient Ireland, yeah? Write about that. Easy!

No. I can't, I don't know how... I hate exams. it's just so wrong, in my head, it hurts...

Oh quit being such a a baby "Oh, my head hurts, poor little me!" Pathetic. You're pathetic. Pathetic!

Pathetic. I am pathetic, aren't I?

I'm pathetic.

Yesterday, my parents sat down while I was in the middle of studying.  It was late. It was my mother who started.

'You are working, aren't you Rose?'

I must have been too nonchalant in my rely.

'Rose, you must try your best - '
'For all our sakes-'
'You want to go to Trinity, don't you pet?'

Both my parents studied at Trinity in Dublin. That was where they first met. They still gave regular donations, and I'd met most of the professors several times.

'So you can get a nice house-'
'And live in comfort-'
'Provide for us when we're old and sick-'

That was the clincher. Whenever they said anything about providing for them, when they were too old and feeble to work, that's what made me feel most guilty. They knew this all too well. We'd seen the reports on Prime Time about the old people who were abused in those nursing homes, and Mum and Dad never made me forget that.

'As your parents-'
'You surely owe us that much-'
'Some comfort in our final days-'
'I'm doing my best -'
'I'm sure you think that, honey-'
'But we need -'
'More!'
'Surely it's not too much to ask?'
'Of... of course not.'
'Good girl. What did you have today? History, wasn't it?'
'Yeah. It was OK.'
'OK? Why?'
'It was fine! Fine fine fine. Easy peasy. Nothing to worry about.'
'That's good, pet. Tea?'
'Um, no thanks.'
Lately, I'd started making and buying all my own drinks. I could never be sure what would be added when I wasn't looking.

Half an hour left for this essay, and I haven't written anything yet. Brilliant.

What?! Stop dawdling and write something, you stupid girl! You've wasted enough time already with your silly sob stories! Come ON!

My head doesn't feel like a functioning object anymore. Just something I have to hold up. I slowly, slowly turn my head and stare at my hand. The biro has rubbed my finger red. I try and write something, anything, but my blue pen has run out of ink. Never mind. There's plenty of blue ink there, below my wrist. I can use that instead, can't I?

Oh dear. The blue ink has turned red. Such a mess on the page, tut tut. Strange, I feel even dizzier now. The supervisor seems to be staring. I should wave and be friendly. Oops, I waved with my ink hand. She'll see all the mess I'm making. I hope I won't get into trouble.

I really, really hope I won't get into trouble.