Levitating Towards You

𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘓𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘴...

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🛑Triggered warning

Mention of child hurting

Blood Minor injuries

Shelf harming thoughts

Childhood trauma

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It made me stronger, but I wanted to feel safer.

I wish none of it ever happened as now it became a part of me that I have to carry till life ends.

I was a child, I used to be happy.

Now look at me. I am crying. With thought that shouldn't take shelter in my mind so young.

"Nightmares and Terrors of a Damaged Childhood"

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A seven-year-old was lying face down on his bed, small hands covering his ears tightly. Pressing the palm flat to prevent hearing any of the terrifying sounds from downstairs that played with his mind. His headphones were far away, out of his reach. He used it quite often simply for the purpose of blocking those white noises, they have been a constant ever since the start of his city life. So, all he could do was pray they would be blocked by some unnatural force. A miracle would happen, and everything would go back to normal.

He will peak outside his window to be greeted by the familiar chilled evening gust of the hills. Cattles being escorted by their respective owners after a day of grazing. Men returning from their farm work, hands and feet soaked in water, some patched of their clothes muddy. The beautiful sunset he would get to see when his mother would call him for snacks downstairs. 

Her lovely smile would be back on her face, the shine in her eyes would return. 

Instead, one would find him huddled inside a thin, baby blue blanket. Recoiling himself into a tiny ball with knees pressed against his chest where he could feel his heart pulsating. Submerged in the scent of lavender faint from the perfume his mother used; the soft fragrance reminded him of familiarity, safety, and happiness. Like a blurred memory out of reach.

He wanted to crawl into a corner and disappear, where no one would hear him, see him, talk to him. Just feel any kind of touch that would relieve him while not wanting to be touched at all. He couldn't understand his own thoughts. 

The four walls appear to be moving farther apart if he peaked out from his makeshift cocoon. As if there was an immense length and he is turning smaller and smaller, his body shrunken as unknown eyes crawled over his covered figure from the closed corners of the dark room. His bedroom appeared darker than usual. The only source was his night lamp which was left illuminated thankfully while he was tucked into his bed. What was the point but if he couldn't gather enough courage to see.

He could hear crickets, loud and violent. It did nothing to lull him to sleep like most nights like a lullaby. They didn't sound like one from home, his home. 

The night was otherwise silent if he could mute the screaming and shouting. He had learned to do so. No stars were visible in the city sky. Anything but darkness would fuel his worst imaginations.

The bedroom felt too big and empty for his small frame curled in. He was sure all the neighbors heard his parents at this point. It was a common occurrence for them to try extracting anything out of him when he was out trying to make friends after his mother's nagging to make and effort into befriending the neighbours's kids. He was on the receiving end of pity and empathy that he hated it their eyes.