𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐂𝐄; rigel wilde

v. 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐤

TW! self-harm, unhealthy coping mechanisms and explicit sexual content

ཐིཋྀ . ˚ ᡣ𐭩‧₊˚⋅ ✭ ₊˚⊹

I was sweating. My temples were throbbing. The room was small, stuffy, suffocating.
 
And it was dark. It was always dark.

I couldn't move my arms. I was scratching at the air, but no one could hear me. My skin was burning, I tried to stretch my hand out, but I couldn't do it. The door closed and the darkness swallowed me whole.

ཐིཋྀ . ˚ ᡣ𐭩‧₊˚⋅ ✭ ₊˚⊹

I woke with a jolt.

I was still surrounded by the darkness of my nightmares and it took me an interminable amount of time to fumble for the light switch. I was still gripping the bedcovers.

Light flooded the room, revealing the corners of my new home. My heart was still pounding in my throat.

My bad dreams had come back. Well, in truth they'd never gone away. A new bed wasn't enough to drive them away.

I weakly touched my wrists. The Band-Aids were still on my fingers, their colours comforting me, reminding me I was free.

I could see them, when it wasn't dark. It wasn't dark, I was safe.

I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. But that sensation was still crawling over my skin. It was whispering at me to close my eyes, it was crouched in the dark, lying in wait for me.

Would I ever truly be free?

I pushed back the covers and got out of bed. I rubbed my face with my hand and headed towards the bathroom after grabbing it in the chest of drawers.

The light made the white, clean tiles shine. The mirror was bright and the towels were as soft as clouds, helping me to remember that I was far away from those nightmares. It was all different. This was another life.

The blade made clean cuts along the scars on my thighs.

One.

Two.

Three.

I took a deep breath, seeing the blood runing down the sides of my legs.

Slowly, I recovered my inner calm.

I took a piece of toilet paper and cleaned them with shaking hands. It's okay. I'm okay.

I turned on the faucet and doused my wrists with cold water, gradually slowing my breathing. I stayed there for a very long time, trying to get my thoughts in order, until the light came back to illuminate even the darkest corners of my mind.

It would all be fine. I was no longer living in my memories. I didn't have to be scared any more. I was far away, safe. I was free.

When I left the bathroom, morning had already broken.

ཐིཋྀ . ˚ ᡣ𐭩‧₊˚⋅ ✭ ₊˚⊹

We had biology first thing that morning, so I made sure I wasn't late. The biology teacher, Mr. Kryll, wasn't well known for his patience.

The sidewalk in front of the school was teeming with students. I was very surprised when I heard a voice in the crowd shout, "Lele!"

Billie was in front of the gates, her curls swinging as she waved excitedly. She was smiling radiantly and I found myself staring at her, lost for words, unused to so much attention.

"Hi," I greeted her shyly, trying not to show how happy I was that she had spotted me in a crowd of so many people.

"So, how's your first week at school going? Feeling suicidal yet? Kryll drives you crazy, right?"

I scratched my cheek. In truth, I'd been fascinated by his classification of invertebrates, but the other students spoke about him as if he'd instigated some sort of reign of terror in his classroom.

"Actually," I started tentatively, "I didn't think he was too bad..."

She burst out laughing as if I'd just told the funniest joke.

"Sure!" She gave me a friendly nudge, making me jump.

As we walked along together, I noticed that she had a tiny, crocheted camera dangling from the zipper of her backpack.

A moment later her face lit up. She ran forward euphorically, stopping when she reached Miki, who she hugged from behind.

"Hello!" she exclaimed joyfully, her arms around Miki's backpack. Miki turned around with a zombie-like expression. She had dark circles under her eyes and her face looked drained from exhaustion.

"You're here early!" Billie trilled. "How are you doing? What lessons do you have today? Do you want to go home together later?"

"It's eight in the morning," Miki protested. "Stop being happy."

She noticed that I was there too. I lifted a hand to wave hello at her, but she didn't respond. I saw that she also had a tiny, crocheted keyring dangling from her backpack. This one was a panda's head, with two huge black patches around its eyes.

At that moment, several girls passed by us, squealing excitedly, and joined a dense throng of students outside a classroom. One of them strained her neck to look inside, the others covered their mouths with their hands to hide their conspiratorial smiles. They looked like a crowd of praying mantises.

Miki stared at the little crowd, looking bored. "What can they be mewling at?"

"Let's go see!"

Together we headed towards them – or rather, Miki headed towards them, and Billie followed, but not before grabbing me happily by the strap of my backpack. We reached the little crowd of girls and I also tried to take a look inside, curious now.

I understood only too late that it was the music room.

I was paralysed.

Rigel was there, his profile like a perfect portrait. A dim light flooded the room, illuminating the black hair framing his striking face. His slender fingers were stroking the piano keys, producing ghostly melodies that dissolved into the surrounding silence.

He looked like a painting.

I tried as hard as I could to push that thought away, but to no avail. He was like a dark god, an unbearable angel who could unleash mysterious, unearthly sounds.

"Is he real?" one of the girls whispered.

I don't think so, I thought to myself.

Rigel wasn't even playing a piece of music. His hands were moving through simple chord progressions, but I knew what they were capable of conjuring when they wanted.