Empty: Book 2

44 : A Home

Content Warning: RAPE/ EXTREME VIOLENCE/ CANNIBALISM

PANA

Cherish what you got, said by one's life recommendation. I hear it now, but I'm hearing also another. 

"Pana, he's dead, Joas is gone!"

"Ms. Locke! It's a girl!"

I'm comprehending nothing, nothing at all. Neither is the sweetness on this ultrasound report that my doctor wants me to read. Neither is the agony in this newspaper Conan wants me to grieve along with him. Neither I can hold both.

I can die, yes. But no, not like this.

Seal in my breath like a mild cardiac arrest even heartless, to make a move is restricted. Devastation in both eyes I'm seeing at Conan's indescribable state in a seat we share with truth in despair he can't keep alone by himself. What more to this betrayer I am? The protector I am? The lover I am? 

A gentle movement from my grown stomach feels like she knew what I'm feeling, caring even before she even is born, worseness even before she knew. Now, I see what I've done. Now, I know what I'm without. 6 months— I've been waiting— waiting for the news stating the doctor who almost ceases the world's reality has magically escaped, only for me to uncover that he already does, but he's not coming back. 

"He had to," I told, as this very kind brother yearns me to feel in his seat waiting for my word. Nevertheless, I don't want anyone to see the unbearable lie, or see what I'm thinking, thus here I stood up after a hardship I had for pulling my leg up, silently eyeing the ground in the heaviest course of walking away from any captious watch.  

I thought I made it; the art of living without the pain of a heart but it's senseless now, the heartlessness. Everything I've resolved is an outcome of much suffering; I don't know why. The agony is too heavy and I can't let it out, I ache for the tears ain't coming, I don't know what I need.

"Locke?!"

But I had no idea how an abusive emotional pain can cause a human to collapse when bearing too hard, and faint into a temporary death serving nothingness on the surface of the floor. And my body does it for me.

• • •

Closed air, the drastically pained body of sweat is mine, and the beeping noises made it much harder to calm down. Did someone just purge me out of sleep? The lifelessness of three months after his death has lost the life of a big part of my soul and is now bounded to soon follow. But selfishness is my mere remorse, I have the flesh he left on me to outlast even longer. Side effects we can call, every day is an injection where numbness is all I depend on just to forget he's gone and my heart's alone. But not in the power of the resurrection— I'm awakened, liven up listening to a greeting of a little cry.