You Can Read Me

Watching

When I got back, I dropped my bag, took of my shoes, then proceeded to run upstairs and collapse onto my bed. 

It always took so much willpower to get out of the security of these woods, even more energy to control and focus on the mind reading.

I stared up at the white plaster ceiling, wondering if I should even bother with unpacking everything and reviewing schoolwork, or just fall asleep for a thousand years.

The ceiling, the walls that had once trapped me so many times before, for fear of being discovered, now protected me from the harshness of the outside world. 

It was my little cave. 

But it wasn't mine until it was and I realized what I had done to get it. 

This huge house in the middle of a forest. 

Away from people. 

I laid down on my back, my head resting on my pillow. The blankets felt cool and refreshing against my bare legs.

I rested my hands on my lap, clenching my knee-length skirt. One of the only skirts I had, a bright summer yellow. The only reason I was wearing it was because it felt far too warm for sweatpants.

Complimented by a light blue sweatshirt, it would've been a beautiful outfit had I anybody to show it to.

I had nobody, but I carried on. 

I had to. 

I owed them.

My hands were shaking now and my vision was blurry. 

I needed to calm down. 

And then I discovered that the blurriness wasn't from tears. 

I have not cried, not in any of my memories. 

In a single moment, I stood up. 

Pain shot through my skull and I clutched my head, forcing my eyes shut, and crumpled to the ground. 

When I looked up after a moment, all I could see was fire.

The house was burning. 

I was burning. 

It didn't hurt, as I had expected it would, which confused me, but also made perfect sense. 

I swiveled my head around, but all I could see was flames. 

This was worse than I had ever experienced.

I think. There were so many visions that I had lost track of all of them.

But it was terrifying.

"Let me out..." I whispered, fear and desperation laced in my voice, "Let me go...." 

The walls were burning. 

My books were burning.

My safety was ablaze. 

I jumped up and ran, stumbling out of the house. 

When I turned back to look, the fires had stopped, but they left the house scorched and stained black, permanent destruction. 

Like the hot anger of betrayal. 

Like the scars it leaves afterwards. 

How even if you rebuild a friendship, even if you replace every floorboard, even if you plant new seeds, the land never truly forgets the fire. 

I see Cream standing beside the ruins, torch in hand. 

Tears are streaking her face and purplish bruises are all over her body.