𝐏𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒 | ✍︎︎

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟯𝟮

A while ago, I would have leaped at the chance to sleep for this long. To be in this medically induced coma thing.

But now, all I want to do is get out of it.

I want to see my brothers, I want to help them through the pain that I'm causing.

I can't help it, I want to tell them, I really tried to wake up.

And I have tried, which is proving impossible for me to do.

It's completely frustrating, trying my hardest to do the one thing that everyone is sure to want me to do, and not being able to.

I just hope they aren't disappointed in me.

I don't know how long it's been, what day it is. I wonder if my friends are wondering about me, maybe they've visited.

Don't get ahead of yourself Clailea, you just met them.

I mentally nod in agreement.

I feel as though I'm going insane, I don't even know when I fall asleep, I never get a break from my thoughts, my mind.

The serpents are invading my glass box now, instead of it being dark and murky water it's so bright I can't even see my hands in front of me.

So undeniably luminous that it's hard to think over my own thoughts, which doesn't even make sense anymore.

I wish I could snap out of it, burst the glass myself because I'm starting to lose my patience, if I even had any in the first place.

I've practically replayed every single thing I can remember, although different things are coming back to me now that I really have the time to think.

Like how my mothers toy factory, as she called it, was never founded, that I know of.

How Thiago will never get justice, not until I'm at least 18. No one would believe a 9 year old, I know all too well.

Maybe Hunter would believe me, the very kind police man that helped me that one day. The day my mother died.

I wonder if she ever got a funeral, a part of me wished she did. I don't even know if the body was found.

But another part of me thinks she doesn't deserve such luxuries such as a funeral. Celebrating her life seems all too wrong, especially since her life was full of torturing and abusing children.

Throwing a party representing that seems extremely disproportionate, in many ways.

All the serpents of the glass box full of water that is my mind, and almost all of them are thoughts of my mother and what happened to her.

I may never get the answers, knowing my brothers and how much they love to keep their conversations private.

I've been catching little glimpses of words, worried, week, longer, doctor said, go home, shifts, switch, bandage.

Those are the most frequent ones I've gotten, seeing as my favorite TV static feeling hasn't been happening recently.

And that is scaring me as well, because it's almost as if I'm giving up. I'm not, I'm trying my best, I'm just blinded by the unbearable light in this stupid glass box I'm stuck in.

I wish I could get out, to slither away like the serpents do at times. When I'm focused on only a few of the serpents they seem to go their separate ways.

It's times like these I can't seem to get them away, they're swarming all around me, creating a whirlpool, causing me to spiral.

I've missed being able to even see my brothers, I can't even feel them, most of the time I can't hear them either.

I miss them, even though I know they're in the same room as me.

I miss their jokes, their gentle awakenings, their persuasive ways of trying to get me to leave the house, their nicknames, just them talking to me.

I miss them whole heartedly, with my entire being.

It's funny, isn't it? Sometimes when I sit with them, I miss them. I don't know why, and now, unconscious with only the serpents of my thoughts, I miss them more than I could ever imagine.

And they're right there.

The thought makes this all worse, because why do they get to see me when I can't see them? How come they can see me breathing, living, and I can't see any of it?

Why do they get to converse, to even argue with each other. I would give anything to get into an argument with one of my brothers right, to just be able to hear their voices.

What if they've died? I would never know, I would be stuck in this hell hole of my mind, the serpents tearing me to shreds once they've run out of fuel.

The serpents would eat me alive.

And honestly, I think I'd let them.

I'd let them tear me apart, to feast on my soul, my mind, and my body.

They can have their fair share, but let me just see my brothers one more time.

The static feeling consumes me, and I welcome it gratefully.

"You don't have to hide anymore," It's in a broken whisper, and painstakingly low that I almost miss it.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I just want to clarify, this is not how it actually is in a medically induced coma.

You are not aware, only for those static like feelings. In real life, if this were to happen, you would not be spiraling like Clailea is now.

Thoughts? Feedback? Let me know!

We're getting to longer lengths of chapters people!

QOTD: Scariest place you've been?

Toodles!

~N