GEENA By Phil Stokoe Geena had felt as if the world had been closing in around her for some time, but this was getting more than a little bit silly. She wasn't claustrophobic, at least not that she knew of. Her only real fear was that of water. It was an all consuming fear that she just couldn't explain. Whether it was boats, bridges or just a little boating lake, she was terrified of it. But that seemed to be the very least of her problems at this particular moment in time. Lying here in bed, she felt tiny. Somehow small and insignificant. It was a feeling that had washed over her as soon as she had opened her eyes. She couldn't put her finger on it, it was just that somewhere deep inside she knew that this wasn't right. It hadn't been until she had looked around the room that the real feeling of dread had taken over. Everything looked familiar, it was nagging in the back of her mind just out of reach. Why? Why did she know this place? The only thing that she did know for sure was that it was not the place that she had gone to sleep. It hadn't occurred to her to question How she had come to be somewhere else. It was funny the way the mind worked in times of crisis. Logic just seems to fly out of the window and the most mundane, silly thing seem to be flashing in bright neon right in front of your eyes. Now was one of those times. If Geena had actually stopped, taken a deep breath and just taken stock of the situation, all of her answers would present themselves to her. As it was she was not a level headed, rational person. She had a short fuse and an explosive temperament. The two together were not a good mix. And so she did what she always did, she panicked. The panic did not manifest itself in a running, screaming fit...jumping around, arms waving as if in a 'Tom and Jerry' cartoon. This was real panic. This was internal, mental panic. She knew that she knew this place. Everything was so familiar. The colour scheme of the room. The cream paint on the walls. The impossibly bright yellow carpet on the floor. the Victorian dresser at the foot of the bed. The rocking chair in the corner. It was a feeling as if she had been here before. In this very room. Panic prevented her from making the connection. Mental synapses began to overload and shut down. Instead of being able to step back and look at the bigger picture, the place where everything was clear, Geena was withdrawing more and more inside of herself searching for answers. But none were there. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead and traced there way down over her face. She didn't feel them. She was in a place where she could feel nothing. It was dark here, but the dark was comforting in its totality. Here she had no-one making demands of her. No-one telling her what to do. No-one to shout at her when she got things wrong, and sometimes when she got them right. There were no hands clutching at the hems of her clothing trying to drag her under. Here there was only quiet. Here there was only calm. Here was nice. Here was peaceful. Here she could think about things and take as long as she wanted to reach the answers. Here she could think about exactly how the argument had started. Nothing. It was all over nothing. A basic misunderstanding. She had snapped at Geena once again. She had snapped at Geena a lot lately. All that Geena wanted to do was help, was that too much to ask? Apparently so. Nothing that Geena could do was right in her eyes. If she dusted, it wasn't right. If she vacuumed, it wasn't right. If she cooked, it was either burnt, too hard or undercooked. If she took her things they weren't appreciated. But it seemed that every day the demands that she made on both Geena and her time increased just that little bit more. Something was going to have to give. Perhaps it had. "This is nice!", Geena thought. And it was. It was the first time in months that she had experienced total quiet. Even her sleep over the last seven months had been invaded by her. What a woman. She could even invade sleep. Bitch. That was what she was...a bitch. Geena realised that by thinking of her, she was allowing her to invade even this place. Geena could not allow that. So she stopped thinking about her and closed in on herself a little further. "It is nice here!", Geena heard herself say, "Really nice!" And then, like a light switch being flipped, everything lit up, and she could see the bigger picture.. It had been about three weeks earlier, during another exchange over something stupid that the words had been said, "What are you going to do, disappear inside of it?", and Geena had replied, "One day I just might!" And that was why it all seemed so familiar. She had painted the walls herself. She had cut the five inch square piece of yellow carpet herself from a book of samples. All of the furniture had been bought for a fiver only three weeks ago, on the very day of the argument. She knew this place because it was her place. It was her house. If Geena had been able to just stop outside of everything and see the bigger picture, she would notice a new addition in the tiny bedroom. A little figure asleep in the undersized bed of the dolls house bedroom. A little figure that had a smile on it's face. "It's so nice here...I think I'll stay!"