TURN BACK THE TIME, BABE. BOOK 2. KINGS WILL BE CROWNED (ENGLISH VERSION)

MY HEART IS HEAVY AND MY HOPE IS GONE

I crawled into my bed swimming in tears and sweat and felt the impending need to punish my skin. A gloomy and never before felt aching to hurt myself till I would become a bleeding rag. And when I wouldn't feel any more pain, sliding down the window sill and let me fall.

I was so alone that I grabbed the smartphone in my hands ready to write Fooling. Then I thought sending him an audio but I wasn't able to modulate my voice, quivering and seized.

I didn't write or talk. It was no good idea. I would worried him and I didn't want him to know how defeated I felt. I knew that Fooling was right and should come back to 2020 to recover myself. Being in my enviroment would be the right thing and among my beloved people to get over that. Nevertheless sometimes we are determined to do the right thing and we are just making a blunder.

How could I come back to 2020 with such a grief? For the first time my parents were on holidays. They planned to travel to Patagonia, one of their long time dreamed destinations and I wouldn't spoil it. When they would see me they would notice my suffering, I was too transparent. They would surely cancelled it to take care of me.

Alex, for his part, he had plans to spend his summer holidays too. He would travel to Sardinia to be with his parents. The world wasn't spinning only around me.

I got up to go to the bathroom and sitting on the toilet I stared at my reflection on the mirror. I felt disgusted by my looks. I didn't get used to my new haircut. I felt awful. I had it drenched in sweat, messy on the crown and the fringe, untidy. My eyes already big were huge now and therefore expressed my distress and tension twice.

The psychologist said I had to forgive and love myself if I didn't want my recovering would be such an endless and gruesome task. That was easier to say than doing. The very essence of my torment was that I regarded my behaviour unforgivable. I should stop him, I should have done a lot of things instead surrender myself and wait that everything would pass. Like when you shelter under a marquee to let the storm pass not to wet yourself. Fine, I was wetted, drenched to the bones. And there was no towel big enough to wipe away my guilt's moist, my disgust's moist.

I flushed the toilet and went up to wash my hands frantic. I felt my body exhausted but at the same time full of adrenaline. Like a car pushing all the time the gas pedal but it stays still. I needed to burn my energie, weight-lifting, do some exercise, it would be fine having a punching bag. Nevertheless, my eyelids closed as though I had tons of iron above them and slid into bed to sleep. Switching off my brain and waiting patiently the nightmare would wake me up some hours later to fill with anxiety the next hours not recovering again my sleep.

Most of the nights the nightmares were playing up bad. I woke up terrified while I from time to time protected my genitals with clenched fingers or I covered my breasts helplessly. Then I looked at myself and wanted to scream frustrated.

My feeding had changed seriously. Every time I ate, sooner or later I ended up throwing up. It's not like I was becoming anorexic suddenly, it's just my stomach rejected everything. I got too thin, my skin looked cadaverous. Indeed I was in a very rough shape.

The psychologist advised me going to the doctor and psychiatrist. But I didn't go any of them. The doctor could wait and as far as the psychiatrist I didn't want to take drugs. I feared becoming a pill addict. I had discovered I had a dangerous tendency to addictions. It must be a genetic component from my birth mother. Who knows, from my birth father too.

I was like a wild animal in a cage and I knew I would never get over it if I didn't do my share. I squinted my eyes watching the dawn lazily and opened my window. An air blow pushed me back as though I was a feather. I grabbed the curtains not to fall. I was like a broken doll. I had barely strenght to going out of my house and doing the daily things. I thought that violent air blow must be God or something, trying to refrain me from climbing up the balcony and throwing myself.