In the Name of Chaos

Chapter 1: Control

It feels as if the walls are closing in on me, and considering this room is already extremely small, I can't seem to calm down. I can't seem to do the one thing Saint has been asking of me for the past few minutes.

"Willow....Willow, can you hear me?"

My lack of reply may not help this matter, but I'm not sure why he thinks I can't hear him. It might be rude to think this, but I want him to stop speaking to me entirely. Unfortunately, I don't have the strength to tell him that.

Saint, although trying to help me, is causing me to lose focus. Right now, I need to focus on calming myself down. However, a part of me feels that I may be going about this wrong. A part of me feels that the more I try to focus on ignoring the pain throbbing against my skull, the worse the pain becomes.

"Willow..."

I clasp my hands over my ears, cutting of the rest of Saint's words. My eyes are closed, so I don't know his reaction to this. Still, I feel his hand rubbing my back. It's more calming than I thought, but it isn't calming enough.

Maybe I can scream all this pain away, but the fear that I'll do more than scream if I lose control now stops me from doing so. I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm not sure I'll be able to forgive myself if I hurt anyone else.

As I turn my head to the left of me, preparing to slightly open up my eyes, Saint pulls my face in his direction. I slowly lower my hands as his lips begin to move.

"You don't need to look at her, Willow. That wasn't you."

I wonder if that's actually true. It seems strange to think that all the bad things I've done until now are not truly things the real me did. I desperately want to believe Saint's words, but as much as I'm trying to convince myself that his words are true, my mind refuses to side with me.

Saint, realizing I am trying to face my mistake, tries to keep us facing each other. However, I push his arm away from me as I turn my head to the left.

My breathing becomes unsteady when I stare at all I've done.

"It's okay. I called someone to help her," Saint says, but I'm afraid help won't get here fast enough.

I just need to control myself as we wait for help. If I have enough strength to bring pain to others, I should have enough strength to fight whatever is happening to me.

I'm getting worse. Everything inside my head feels worse, and sometimes, it hurts when my skin scrapes across another object. I feel everything more than I ever have before, and everything I feel hurts.

Things aren't this way all the time, and this is only the second time during our stay here that my head feels as if it is about to explode.

Saint tried giving me sedatives, but I threw them out the window before I realized what they were.

"Willow—"

"Shut up!" I screech with pain and the sound leaving my mouth is something I have never heard before now.  "Shut up, Saint! Just shut up!"

I raise my hand to strike him but stop as the disgust I have for myself begins to grow. It might be easier if I let it all go. I want to let it all out and make everything stop hurting so much.

The pain in my head only worsens when I fight it, but something takes over me when I don't fight it, and I harm too many people. As for my body beginning to ache, I just have to make sure it doesn't make contact with many things.

It seems as if any option I take now is a double-edged sword. I can fight the pain and continue feeling an excruciating pain inside my head, or I can let go and allow myself to hurt others. However, seeing as my body feels weaker, I may hurt myself in the process of hurting others. Nothing works for me. Everything is against me, so I have nothing else to do but scream.

"Shhh shhh. Willow, you'll draw attention to us. We'll get out of here any time now."

I push past Saint, walking away from the corner of the room and towards the girl I hurt.

It's not possible to believe that I never really did this. I can't feel that way right now. It was my hands. My hands are the same hands that were around her neck. The legs I now use to walk to her are the same legs that repeatedly kicked her stomach.

She shouldn't have been in here; this rundown, dirty apartment Saint and I are supposed to hide in before we can be taken to the owner of the black market. Even Saint doesn't understand how she got inside in the first place.

I look down at her, but her eyes are shut.

"She's alive, Willow. Don't worry." If I wasn't watching her chest slowly rise and falls, I wouldn't believe Saint. "I won't tell my friend about this."

I turn to face Saint, but he looks to the ground. "Why?"

"It just can't happen again. I want them to help you, Willow, and they might be too afraid to be around you if they keep hearing about these things."

"You've," I wince, "told them about how I act before."

Tears begin to fill my eyes as I try shutting out the pain I now feel whirling through my body. Something tells me to embrace it.

"I had to." Saint now looks at me.

He looks tired. I'm not sure he knows that I've noticed, but he hasn't slept during our stay here. At least, he never sleeps when I'm awake, which means he hardly sleeps. He might be afraid of what I'll do to him if he ever takes the chance to rest.

Honestly, I don't understand why he is helping me when I'm such a huge risk. He's doing so much for me, and my presence can't even allow him to do the most basic task of sleeping.

"They'll cure me."

"Yeah, but I don't know how soon they can give you the cure," Saint replies.

"But—"

"I have a group that'll take care of her," Saint looks to the girl he rescued, "and I have a group that will pick us up after. The second doesn't need to know about this, okay? They're the ones from the black market."

I remain quiet for some time but reply when Saint looks at me as if he expects an answer. "Okay," I say.

I look at the bruises on my arms, and when I look at Saint, he looks guilty. It isn't his fault. He did all he had to do in order to help the girl. She didn't fight back herself. Considering my body is now more sensitive, the fight might have ended earlier if she did.

I wish she fought back, but she kept saying she couldn't hurt family. She said she's been looking all over for me. I've never met her before, so I think she may have as many issues as I do.

Judging from the girl's facial features, height and body, she's probably no older than fifteen years old. I feel disgusted with myself.

"It's not me," I whisper to myself. "These things aren't me. It's not me."

From the corner of my eye, I notice Saint looks a little afraid, but he does nothing to interrupt me. However, a soft voice does. I turn to the girl I hurt, and I notice her lips begin to move. I don't know her, yet she whispers my name.

"Willow...don't trust him." The sound is faint, but I'm sure I hear her speak.

I look back at Saint, wondering if he hears the voice, too. It doesn't look like he does. Rather, he stares at me with a confused expression.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

It must be in my head. She isn't speaking, and now, Saint has more reasons to avoid sleeping around me. I need to remain calm. We'll be out of here soon.

"It's not me. I'm okay. I'm okay." I'll continue to tell myself this until I believe it.