The Fear of Falling;

Acrophobia. Yes; that’s the word; the fear of heights; or, in my case, the fear of falling. I blame this on my older brother, Quinton. When we were younger, he told me that if I jumped off the swings high enough, I’d be able to fly. Being my naive, three year old self, I believed him. Only to discover gravity had other intentions. I broke my elbow in three places that day. Twelve years and eight operations later, I still haven’t entirely forgiven him.1

On the odd occasion that my thoughtless, self preoccupied parents could be bothered to visit their ‘crippled’ daughter, they’d pester me about being a so-called hypochondriac and persistently blame me for the medical expenses that have accumulated over the years. Seeing as my brother is five years older than me, you’d expect some amount of blame to be mounted upon him; although that was never the case. 2

“How about I snap your elbow in half?” I’d silently retaliate.3

My parent’s lack of love and devotion used to take its toll on me. Until this frail yet chirpy boy was transferred to my hospital room. His name was Vincent. I’d heard the nurses talk about him before. They make him sound like some sort of wonder boy. I had always been intrigued by this imaginative persona I had built up in my mind using the flawless words of those nurses; I had never thought that my imagination could depict such a realistic perception. 4

“Annabelle, is it?” Vincent inquired, his lips delicately pronouncing my name.5

“Yeah. So what’s wrong with you?” I abruptly questioned.6

He laughed. “Wow, that was nice. I have muscular dystrophy,” he began, “a disease that causes extreme deterioration of the musc-“7

“Yeah, I know what it is” I interrupted. 8

“Gonna be a tough one, are you?” He teased. 9

“Sorry, I’m just sick to death of this damn hospital!” I retorted. 10

“Tell me about it” Vincent agreed.11

Throughout the years of extensive procedures that would hopefully restore some use and somewhat normal movement in my arm, my relationship with Vincent flourished. We were always there for each other. As Vincent grew weaker, I would use my work with physiotherapy as an advantage to either help him drink, brush his teeth or even wipe his face; whatever he needed, basically. We would stay up all night talking, play pranks on the nurses and laugh to our hearts content. We were inseparable.12

Now, this is nothing but a distant memory. I sense a chilling cold rush over my body as I anxiously approach my best friend’s thick, black coffin. While I caress the delicate engravings on the casket, I am consumed with the overwhelming feeling of emptiness. Where do I go from here? Vincent was all I ever had; the only person in the world I could trust. Now he’s gone. As I look up to the cloudy, over cast sky, my eyes are suddenly filled with glassy tears; they soon start streaming down my face as my solitude lays its foundations in my mind. 13

“Annabelle?” A familiar voice whispers.14

I look up. I feel as though I’ve just been hit by a train. “Yes?” I answer in such a dull manner, it’s almost inaudible. 15

“It’s time to say good-bye now” Vincent’s mother calmly instructed, “It’s time for the burial”16

Subconsciously, I clutch my arms around my best friend’s tomb and begin to sob. 17

My screams are silent. I find myself being prized away from my only companion. I’m on my own now.18

Since Vincent left, I’ve just let life pass me by; like living in slow motion; or in a debilitating freeze frame. There comes a time in life where if you’re not careful, you can simply fade into the life of an observer. You’re just there to watch; it becomes impossible for you to take any action because you’re living in a strict routine which doesn’t allow it. Although, in my heart I honestly know this is the exact opposite of what Vincent would want. He had always assured me that with or without him, I would be okay. 19

“Annabelle Fitzgerald?” An authoritative figure announces. 20

“Present” I politely respond.21

As the class secretly chatter about me in the background, I sit by the window, looking to the sky, I think of how returning to school, meeting new people and letting go would make Vincent proud. Although I will forever miss Vincent, my dearest friend, I think there comes a time where it’s necessary to pull yourself together and move on. I love Vincent with everything I have but I know he’ll visit me in my dreams.22

“Can I sit here?” A shy an unfamiliar, shy voice asks23

“Of course”, I laugh, “no one else seems to dare”24

“Oh okay thanks. I don’t see why not. You seem like a nice enough person; I’m Daphne, new here, I’m sure you gather. What’s your name?” 25

With this new found realisation that the world is not over, I think I’m going to be just fine. 26

Laura Tinling, 2008