“Dear Amnesia,
Lasting scars no one could ever see. Touches that hold a person's mindset captive. You made your intentions clear. That the world is under your right thumb. We are your army and your plans wicked. If only we could break away, if we could only escape.”
_______________________________
The air sat thick and suffocating, pressing down on my lungs, or maybe it was me—set on fire from the inside again. I perched on the edge of the barstool in the dark kitchen, the only illumination coming from the dim, flickering clock displays on the microwave and oven. Every shadow stretched endlessly, heavy with silence.
Tbor and Pin were close by, their breathing deep and uneven but never breaking into snores. I clung to their presence like it was the only thing tethering me to this moment, and still, I felt completely alone.
Any thread of hope I’d held onto was gone, dissolved like sugar in cold water—there, then vanishing without a trace. After Grey’s power trip over me in the washroom, I hated myself with a fresh, blistering fury. Thin and weak wasn’t just how I felt—it was all I was. Now, every part of me felt useless. And worse—stupid.
I traced the rim of the small glass of water in front of me. Just plain water. For once, nobody had intercepted it with powders or dissolved pills—no strange cocktails meant to fix or break me. I hadn’t poured a glass for myself in ages; they always got to it first. But tonight, mercifully, no one was around.
The kitchen felt vast and hollow. The silence amplified the sound of my bare feet slipping off the stool and onto the cold tile. I crept toward the bathroom, each step deliberate, as though the floor might give way if I pressed too hard. It was 3 AM, but sleep was not an option—couldn't risk it, not with what might come clawing back in my dreams.
I ran the bathtub, the rushing water filling the space with a sound that was strangely distant, like it belonged to someone else’s world. The bottle of rose-scented bubble bath tipped in my hand, and I dumped half of it into the stream. The delicate foam spread across the surface, a false softness I won’t be able to feel.
I watched, unmoving, as a couple of tears slipped down my cheeks. I didn’t wipe them away. I allowed them to trickle down my cheeks and down my neck. Watching the bubbles twist and disappear into the swirling water. There was no bathroom door to close. Nowhere to shut the world out.
My fingers gripped the hem of my shirt, I tried to pull it over my head. My breath hitched violently, my lungs struggling against the tightness in my chest. The idea of being exposed made my skin crawl. The sobs started low, trapped in my throat, stifled until they forced their way out, each one punctuating my shaky breaths.
My knees buckled under the weight of it all. The freezing bite of the concrete floor beneath me made my feet go numb, but I stayed rooted, paralyzed by the fear of what lay beyond my skin.
How many times will it happen? How many times will I be broken?
The question echoed inside my skull, a jagged loop. All I wanted now was to stay covered, to keep everyone out, to never be seen again.
Without thinking, I stepped into the bathtub, fully clothed, the water immediately soaking through fabric and skin. I sat down slowly, the water creeping higher, enveloping my legs and hips, but I still didn’t feel clean—just heavier. My clothes clung to me like a second skin, the weight of them oddly comforting.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my mind to believe I was safe. My breaths were shallow, erratic. I forced myself to bow my head, trying to stay grounded, but panic buzzed under my skin like static.
YOU ARE READING
ACCLIVITY(Being Revised)
Aksi"Acclivity" is a story that follows the turbulent life of Anna, a young woman who was forced to participate as a subject to a potent experimental drug called SubdueX. She obtains unregulated pills called Neuromodulon. It causes hallucinations and m...
