𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

【ｐｒｏｌｏｇｕｅ】

It's been a while, in your mind, you think it has been a while. Time does not exist in this place - nothing besides you seems to exist in this place. Just you.
The grass - that doesn't feel like grass - caresses your cheek as you lay there on the forest's grounds. There's a faint noise of a fan, barely audible, but present - perhaps it's serving as a reminder that you're still here.
Maybe you're not laying in a forest of tall trees, like you thought you were? Maybe you're laying in bed, on a summer night, with the fan's cold breeze?
Last time you saw something laying on the ground, it was dead - maybe you imagined it, but although fantasy it was true. Nothing breaths when laying on the floor.
You see, I know red is one of our favourite colours. So attention seeking, if bright enough, and that's why it's not working now. It didn't call for attention - the red pool surrounding your fractured head. You hope it doesn't look too bad, you don't wanna scare off potential lovers.
Lovers.
Romantic word for a not so romantic world.
Who was it again, that you wanted to impress? That white, blond haired boy team lead from school?
Humans crave love - doesn't matter if they love the recipient or not, they just want to feel that warm feeling that leaves begging for more.
I'm sorry, you're bleeding, I forgot. You've been bleeding for years now, I think. We thought it was just a small cut, but then the red blood messed up your eyes and....
There's a comfort in dying, you know? It's not so scary after you get used to the feeling. Your mind is doozing off, and you know that, despite everything, you did what you could with what you had.
Yet, your eyes won't close. It's like you're being forced to stay on the edge of the precipice, awaiting something that will never happen, and when you do manage to get one foot off the ground, you're back at point one.
You have tried moving your hands, to lift you up the ground like you had done so many times before - but maybe, just maybe, it's time to rest. Everything has to come to an end and you're tired.
But if you died, who would tell your cats what happened? Why you're not coming home?
Is there even a home to come back to?
Just ahead, between the trees, stood a young stag watching you. The fog moved around him like curtains, pushing him further and further from you, and you try to raise your arm out to him - hoping that the animal would somehow understand and come back to help you.
Hadn't we decided that it's time to let go? You're so stubborn, wailing out in pain through the remains of your voice, you look up to the sky. The faint blue covered by an approaching storm.
This is not how it was supposed to go.
Against all the odds and what your heart and mind was telling you, you forced yourself to roll in the floor so you could support yourself on your elbows and crawl to a nearby tree. That tree, now covered in your blood, helped you get up from the ground. You couldn't feel your legs or anything below your waist, and you were too in denial to look down.
You lurched forward, only to fall again to your knees, and repeat until your body realized that it was your way or your way. Death was not an option, as much as you wanted it to be - so you limped through the woods, leaving a trail behind that any predator would surely take proud in following. Any fur predator, of course, an animal walking in four legs, right? That's the type of predator one would think of from the top of their head; wolves, bears...
Hot, rapid tears fell down your cheeks, mixed in with the dirt and blood. You didn't even realize you were whimpering and weeping like child lost in the market until your shoulders started to shiver and you almost tripped over. You saw yourself face-to-face with an empty shopping hall, separated from your mom.
Your crying did not go unnoticed, but it wasn't your mother who had found you and would welcome you in her cold arms, no. Someone else had found you.
Someone that the term "predator" could be applied to.
It's ironic, your mother always dreamt of losing you in the woods.