lacuna

Chapter Thirty-Six

Fallon's pov

Promises. They should not be broken. And yet, not all of them can be kept.

Not when saying, "I promise I will no longer harm myself" was comparable to saying "I promise I will hold my breath from now on". Not when keeping the promise was more harmful than breaking it. Especially not when nightmares started blending in with reality, making me stare at the date on the calendar, sitting on the bed with my knees pulled up to my chest. I hadn't slept at all. How could I when the darkness was peering at me from the corner, waiting for me to fall?

It was an impossible set of contradictions and questions without answers. It was witnessing the decay of my own mind and body and soul and I simply watch, unable to do anything. It was watching my own self, my anchor to the world, to reality, slip away from sanity, from my own happiness, and not being able to lift a finger to stop it, and it was knowing that sometimes, I couldn't even truthfully say that I want to get better. Because I didn't. Some, sick, twisted part of me wanted to stay exactly where it was, curled up in this pit of decay and horror, satisfied with its own sad demise. And I couldn't hope it would get better. I couldn't hope at all; there was no future to look forward to, no greener grass. A heavy, sickly, grey blanket of poison gas was settling over me, and I could see it coming, but never compelled to move away quite fast enough to escape it. My legs were stuck in the mud, the thick, dark smog pressing into me, stifling every breath, and even though every fibre of my being needed to escape, it wouldn't. I wouldn't. And then, even as the poison gas stole my last breath from my chest, my head kept telling me, over and over:

"Your fault. Your fault. Your fault".

Because it was. But it wasn't. But it had to be. This was reality. The only one I had. And it was terrifying.

I made lines along the inner side of my arm, my promise laying on the ground next to my feet as the slits coloured red. Guilt was heavy on me but there was that voice again saying that it wasn't him that was going through this. It wasn't him that was now alone in a room, feeling so hopeless. It wasn't him that was drowning.

My parents weren't home yet but it wasn't affecting me that much. If anything else, it only allowed me to do whatever I wanted. It had been exactly two days after my mental breakdown and I'd only had eight coffees and an energy bar for the entirety of those two days. Now, I made a final cut, resting my head back against the wall as I let the blood drip. Everything blocked out as I focused on the feel of the warm liquid as it trailed down my arm, stings of pain erupting.

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Eli's pov

I waited for her in front of the gates to the graveyard. As much as I had wanted to come with her inside, she insisted that I stayed. So, that was what I did. I sat on my bike, scrolling on my phone, occasionally glancing up to see if she was alright. It ached me to see her kneeling in front of his grave, her head bowed. I couldn't imagine the pain she might be going through. How could one person go through so much and yet be able to put on a smile? Having your parent leave you as if you were worth nothing to her was one thing and having someone you love dearly leave this world was another. And yet, both of the instances were fortunate. One gets to save himself from any deeper or longer pain whilst the other had gotten to store loving memories. Fortunate in their own way.

Fallon's pov

"I've missed you, Mr Oscar. I've missed you so much" I wiped the tears that stained my cheeks. The wind rustled the petals of the flowers I'd placed on top of his grave and pushed my hair away from my neck, sending shivers through me.