Untangling Strings

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Days past by swiftly, and with each sunrise I push myself to get up and face the day even if my whole system is fucking wrecked, I know I have to function somehow. The world won't stop spinning just because I stopped living. So, I tried.

But today's different. My mind can't find a single unreasonable reason to face this day, and my bed's doing a great job of pinning my body to it.

"Hey, Hope. Are you awake?" Mom knocked on my door. It's nine o'clock and I bet she's off to her shop. "Are you still coming with me?"

Shit. I told her last night that I would come with her to help arrange stuff in the shop. "Mom, I can't," my voice cracked on the last word. I wanted to, so badly, to stand on my feet, but my bones just won't cooperate with the idea.

"Sweetie, give me a call later, 'kay?" I could hear the worry in her voice. I know I'm giving everyone a hard time dealing with all my bullshit. Since I got back, mom and dad were too gentle with me, afraid they might unintentionally press a fresh wound. I'm tired of being weak and fragile. It sucks.

I was about to respond when I heard receding footsteps. "I'm sorry,"  I softly whispered as I choked on my own words while letting the stream of tears fall. A great way to kick start the day, huh? Fucking impressive.

I lost track of how long I was drowning in my own tears and thoughts when I heard a knock on my door. I took a deep breath, "Just a sec." Why on earth does it take all my strength to push myself up and stand on the ground? I was studying my feet, thinking if it could bear my weight. I wasn't eating much, but the burden my heart and mind are carrying weighs a ton.

No one was at the door and what was left was a tray of breakfast. No note this time.

Eating breakfast was a tough task for me today, I hardly swallowed half of the meal as I felt my heart shatter into thousands, millions, I bet it could reach billions, of pieces. I couldn't even bring myself to gulp the glass of milk. Milk? What the heck? Am I a toddler?

I brought the tray downstairs and thought of washing the dishes. My eyes were locked on my hand which was on the lever of the sink faucet. Just there, not moving. Damn it! Do I still have an ounce of strength left? My unstoppable tears made its way out again making me feel how pathetic and incapacitated I am.

"Hope?" Oh, great. I forgot to check the schedule. "What's the matter?" I can't bring myself to turn around, my brother's voice is getting near to me. Well, it's either I put up with his presence or... there's no or, I can't even twist a freaking lever.

"Hey, baby sis," Gab's calm voice reached my heart and filled it with overflowing guilt, and took all my remaining strength that I turned to him and let myself fall into his comforting arms. "Shh, it's alright," he whispered to me as he stroked my back.

"I'm sorry," I keep on mumbling those words as I gasp for air while sobbing the shit out of my system. I feel like I have been forcing an expired glue to keep myself together, and now in his arms I can let go and let every part of me shatter. He was, is, and maybe will always be my safest space. My brother.

"I'll get you water," he was about to lose grip of me when I clung to him.

"Please, don't leave me," the words came out in between snivels. I held unto my brother as if I'm holding on for fucking dear life to get Lucifer off of me.

I have no idea how long we were standing in the kitchen as he tried his very best to calm my damage beyond repair-self. Good heavens gave me the courage to loosen hold of him and stand on my own two feet, head bowed down hoping the ground would open and swallow me, and feeling how petty that act was considering I was known to have a full-height pride.

"Can we talk?" his worried eyes were pleading. I nodded.

He guided me to sit on the barstool and grabbed a glass of water. "Drink." Did I just turn into a robot who does what she's told? Definitely not me. But I did anyway.

"Now, talk," there goes the authoritative voice.

I shook my head, "I don't know where to start." Oh, damn the hiccups in between words!

He took his phone out of his pocket, typing for a couple of seconds, "I've got all day. Talk."

What. The. Actual. Shitty. Fuck.