A Gun To My Heart

35

I wake up alone in his bed, with a plate of pancakes on the bedside table next to me. The curtains are moved aside, revealing bright sunlight. I look at the note next to my glass.

I hope you like pancakes.
A slight smile spreads across my face as I pick up the fork and knife, slicing into it.

*

I walk down the hall, looking into my room. All the windows are gone, getting replaced by one long one. "This one won't break." Azia's voice cuts into my bubble, popping it.

Her blue eyes are now filled with jealousy and anger. No sympathy or remorse. Why would she feel bad at all? It looks like she has cried too. Probably sad because of him. What he said to her. Shattering the dream of him in her head.

"Good."
We're just standing here. Outside my room. Next to the people working, disliking each other. "He never opened up to you, did he?"

The words are carefully picked. They would peel every wound open again. Would. I remain silent, making her chuckle out loud. "He doesn't trust you Maeve. Both of you are dumb. Both of you never realize the obvious. Stop thinking he will trust you again because he never did."

Continuing, I just stand here. Not reacting. She failed her task. Trying to harm me even more mentally. At this point, I don't react the way she wants me to. If she told me that a couple of days ago, I would. Now I'm too hurt. Preparing for something far worse to happen. The wounds were open already. "Did he open up to you?"

My voice keeps calm, putting out something hiding in her eyes. Her smile doesn't fade away, but her pride does. It melts away from her, evaporating in the air. Her whole energy changes. Making her smile turn into a stiff grimace.

Now she's the one responding with silence. Her arms cross and that's enough for me to walk away from the talk. I don't know if it can be called a talk. Competition would be a more fitting word.

I bump into mom, and her face immediately changes to raging resentment as she slaps my face again. "I thought you agreed to not making a second time happen, " she hisses quietly. My hand almost touches the painful area, but she grips my wrist digging the same red nails into it. Making me feel piercing pain.

"Stop ruining it for us."
Us. The word makes me want to strike her again. Something I won't, knowing that she'll punish me even harder. Finally her sharp grip, releases and just like that, she's gone again.

When will this vicious circle end?

As I pass the beautiful paintings hanging on the white walls, my thoughts are still running. I look up at the flowing chandeliers just below the curved, glass roof. Light shines down to the plants placed on the floor.

I run my hands on the big mirror at the end of the hallway and look at my wrist. Her nails left small, red marks on them. How will it be when it's all over?

How will she cover the fact that she killed Sarjia's leader? What will happen with Aries?
I hate it.
Not knowing anything. It torments me, making meput together my own different endings. Making me imagine the worst endings. I hate it. I hate her.

"Someone help me."
The words almost flow out of my mouth automatically. No one is here with me. I'm just staring at myself in the big mirror. I'm so small compared to this place. Compared to the whole world. Yet, it feels like I carry the pain of every human roaming on earth.

When will I finally collapse? It seems like there are two choices that I have to choose between to let the pain disappear. Letting everything around me fail or, let myself fade away. I can't do that to them.

Them? You're alone.

My hands hit the mirror hard, thinking it will tear the belief away. Instead, the wild noise echoes through the empty hallway.

You are alone.

Again. My hand hits the mirror. Sending another loud noise down the hallway. My breaths become more desperate. I try to control it, breathing deeper.

Take your time. I'll wait here, while you're wasting every second that passes, trying to breathe.

Again. My hand hits the mirror. Another noise thrown does the hallway. Third time.

Alone.

Again. Hand hits the mirror. Noise shoved down the hallway. Fourth time. When will it end? When will it tear the thought away? When will the action kill it?

"Stop." I lean my body on the cold frame around the glass. Wanting the voice to listen.

All alone.

Again.

You're all alone.

Again.

My hand now moves to my forehead, resting on it. Trying to cool it down. The same skin. Cold against the heated. Thinking it will help me. Calm the voice down. Making it remove itself.

Stupid. Thought.

I grasp onto the portrait hanging on the wall. I won't fall.

I won't flee.

My head shakes wild, trying to make the voice release its grip.

"Help me, " I whisper, feeling the nonexistent liquid reach my chin, ready to drown me. The painting drops with my hand. Darkness surrounds my vision.

You
Are
All
Alone.