heartstrings

Chapter 38

Nicholas
February 26th 2018

The room was silent but for the occasional creak of the bedframe and the gentle hum of the heater. I lay there in the dim light of late evening, Eve curled up against me. Her warmth was a stark contrast to the cold numbness I felt inside. Her breathing was steady, rhythmic, but somehow it didn't seem to emphasize the void within me like it usually did.

I stared at the wall, my vision blurring slightly. My mind felt distant, like I was submerged underwater, unable to fully connect with the world around me. Eve's presence was a grounding force, but even that couldn't pierce through the fog that had settled over my thoughts.

I have been getting really bad, and i can't seem to turn it off this time, because i was so deep into my hole.

Eve shifted slightly, propping herself up on her elbows so she could look down at me. Her gaze was soft, a mixture of concern and affection. "How was school today?" she asked, her voice gentle but insistent.

"Fine," I murmured, my eyes never leaving the wall. The word was a reflex, a shield I used to block any further conversation. It felt safe, detached.

Eve didn't seem deterred. She continued to look at me, her face a mixture of pride and worry. "I'm really proud of you for going. I know it's not easy. You're doing so well."

I wanted to respond, to tell her that it wasn't about doing well or not. It was about trying to exist in a world that felt increasingly hollow. But the words wouldn't come.

As I lay there, Eve's voice became a distant hum, merging with the fragmented images in my mind. I saw my mother again, her face twisted in a grimace of despair. The image was too vivid, too raw. It was like an old wound being torn open, revealing the raw, unhealed pain.

I remembered that night vividly. It was as if it happened just yesterday, though time had a way of warping such memories. The scene replayed with chilling clarity: the sound of the water lapping at the edges of the lake, the frantic splash, and then the dreadful stillness. My mother had always been so vibrant, so full of life, yet in those final moments, she had been swallowed by an unrelenting abyss.

The image of her struggling to stay afloat, her cries for help that never reached anyone, haunted me. It was a brutal reminder of how fragile life could be, how quickly it could unravel. The drowning was more than just a physical event; it was a metaphor for how I felt, constantly on the edge of being overwhelmed.

Eve's voice broke through my reverie. "Nic, are you okay?"

I wanted to say something, to reassure her, but the words felt trapped in my throat. I was far from okay. I was far from being able to articulate the depth of the despair that had rooted itself in me. The more she spoke, the more it felt like she was trying to pull me back from the precipice, but I was too far gone, too lost in my own thoughts to reach out for her help.

Her hand brushed gently against my arm, a tactile reminder of her presence. "I'm here for you," she said softly. "Whatever you're feeling, you don't have to go through it alone."

I could feel her love, her support, but it was like trying to grasp at smoke.

Her voice  was filled with a mix of sadness and determination, as if she was trying to share her strength with me. It was a painful reminder of how disconnected I felt from everything that once brought me comfort.

"Thank you," I whispered, the words barely audible.