Hiraeth

37

//Sorry sorry sorry. This is a short chapter, but I'm going on vacation, and I don't know when I'll have time to write, so I wanted to give you a little something in the mean time//

Sage

There is a feeling that everyone gets at least once in their life where you just feel empty. Like someone literally cut open your body, and created a whole in the middle of your heart. That feeling where it is so hard to breath. Where breathing feels like climbing Mount Everest.

That feeling where your heart hurts. It aches in a way you've never known before, and you don't know how to get the pain to stop, so you just cry.

You cry, and cry, and cry.

You physically cannot do anything else. Your body just won't allow it.

That is how I feel right now.

I don't even open my eye-lids, but I can already tell they are swollen. I must have fallen asleep crying last night. I drank a lot. But no amount of alcohol will ever make me forget the texts he sent, and the memories that came with them.

With my eyes still closed, I don't feel Leo's presence next to me, meaning he's left the room. I can't tell if I want that or not.

In some ways, I want him right now, to just hold me in that way that he does that makes me feel so safe.

But I also just want to be alone right now.

Because nobody here will understand my pain. Nobody will understand what I am going through. And I am not going to try to explain it. I just need to lay here, in bed, and do nothing else.

I can't do anything else. Mentally or physically.

It's like a disease – a trauma's after effects.

It doesn't matter what kind of trauma one goes through. It could be going to war, watching your loved ones die, getting raped...

No matter what it is, there is no way to get rid of the memories. The pain. The agony. It stays with you forever. No matter how many therapy sessions one goes through, or how much help they received. The memories are always there to haunt you.

I finally open my eyes. The sun shines in the room, and as much as I want to close the blinds, I don't make the effort to move.

Instead, I shift the covers off of me slightly, so it only covers the lower half of my body. I look down the length of my body, and slowly lift up my shirt.

And I look at my scar.

The knife scar.

I stare at it with no emotion. My face and mind numb.

I bring my index finger on my right hand to trace the mark. And once I do, I align my nails so they are placed directly on the scar. I have every intention to dig my nails into my skin. To create new marks where the scar is, and get rid of the old ones. To use the new marks from my nails to cover up the past and what came from up. To feel the pain of the past, and mask it with this new pain.

But I don't.

I quickly pull my shirt back down and pull the covers up harshly, so it covers my entire body except for my head. I turn my body so I'm lying on my side, and curl into a ball.

It only takes a second before the tears make a reappearance.

Leo

Fuck. Fuck. Dammit.

I pace back and forth in the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do. I needed to get out of our room. Seeing her eyes all red and swollen while she slept – I couldn't take it. My angel should not, should never, have to go to bed crying.