Mirrored

Chapter 16 - Kaya

New Chapter 📣📣📣

⚠️Warning: Mentions of abuse, negative self-talk and self-harm are explored within this chapter. It can be a very sensitive topic so please take care of yourselves and read what you are comfortable reading.

Sorry for not posting for a while got a little busy these days but I am back and I will try to upload more chapters, more consistently.

I'm not sure why but it seems this story is full of lengthy chapters and this one is again, another one of them. So, like always, I recommend reading this chapter when you have extra time on you.

But for now, I hope you enjoy this chapter 💖💗💖
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It's hard to fight with intangible battles, but it's even harder to pretend everything's fine when things are just falling apart.

 - Areeba

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It never occurred to me how much satisfaction I would feel in this moment where I see him with his eyes closed for a prolonged period of time.

His hair was freshly washed by yours truly after he offered to wash mine. I should've known he was capable of many more domestic activities given that he had cared for his sister for all of his life but this caring side of him was a quality of his I admired. His face was absent of the constant frown he wore like armour and his skin was unsurprisingly flawless up close.

I have never seen Ryo sleep. Not when we I was a cheeky five year old, not when I was a moody teenager, or a depressed adult. I came to a conclusion early in my adolescence that he most likely suffered from insomnia. Whether that was something he always had or because of some circumstances, it didn't change the fact that he was unable to rest or replenish his body even after all the strenuous tasks he has to do.

For a long time, I was much too self-centred to care about it. Far too deep with my own issues when in reality they weren't that big of a deal. Children receive punishments when they commit incorrect actions. People, family members, die. We all die.

The only choice we are given, is to either express your hardship or to keep them to yourself.

I chose to self-destruct openly, while he, chose to lock it up and hide them.

All along I thought we were the complete opposites. Me being extroverted, open, and annoying, while he was introverted, silent, and was out of everyone's way. But now I realise despite our differences there were similarities. We were alike in so many aspects of our lives we chose to ignore it. Because what good would it bring to dig and find our scars, our pasts, our fears?

Pain. Shame. Embarrassment.

It highlighted our weakness. Giving evidence to our vulnerability - how fragile, powerless, defective we were.

I couldn't be sure as to how he thought about his own scars but I hated them, especially the ones marked by my father. I had no control over what happened to my body, my mind. I had no control in stopping it or preventing the situation from happening in the first place.

And they never leave. Some fade but most don't. And they never leave my damaged brain. At times, particularly in the night, they replay over and over and over again, trapping me with memories I longed to forget.

What was worse was that I needed the pain like a drug addict. Without the pain I could not function. Without the pain all the thoughts that are usually whispers increase in volume and begin to scream in my ear.