After-Effects

7

Karissa

The cloak of bravado I had put on for everyone's sake had slips off the moment I was alone. I had assured them I was fine, that I just needed to sleep, but the truth was far from it.

As soon as the door closed behind them, I had broken down, surrendering to the torrent of emotions that had been building up inside me. I cried, oh, how I cried, massive, forcefully muffled sobs that shook my entire being, hot-fat tears streaming down my face like a river of pain crying it self out.

But even in my anguish, I couldn't escape the cruel realisation that I couldn't cry myself to sleep, or pass out from exhaustion.

No, my mind remained stubbornly awake, reliving every hurtful moment, every part of the wrecked future I had dreamed of. It would have been a mercy to lose myself in unconsciousness, but it seemed even that was denied to me. I was trapped in this waking nightmare, forced to watch the destruction.

I tried laying in bed, still feeling a bit dazed from all the tears shed. Dexter came in to check on me in the middle of the night. He was being attentive after the seizure, his actions a testament to his concern.

He had previously assured me that it happened because of the shock and exhaustion, and had given me some medication to help manage the aftermath. He had also outlined some precautions I needed to take, his careful instructions a reminder of the fragility of my current state.

Dexter also contacted a friend Neurologist. He had asked me questions, and had concluded that the seizure was indeed triggered by sleep and food deprivation, as Dexter had initially suggested. The fact that it was short-lived and hadn't progressed to more severe symptoms.

The silence that followed Dexter's departure weighing heavily on my chest. Without his distracting presence, my thoughts began to spiral out of control, consumed by the sadness that had been lurking everywhere.

The misery that had been temporarily held at bay by people around me. The shadows in the room seemed to deepen, echoing the despair that had taken up residence in my heart.

The familiar melody of my father's custom ringtone cut through the fog of my grief, piercing the numbness that had settled over me. It was as if the sound of that specific tune reminding me I was still alive.

I felt a spark of recognition, a jolt of instinct, and my body responded automatically. I hauled myself up, my movements mechanical, and reached for the phone. My hand closed around it, and I brought it to my ear, my voice barely above a whisper as I answered.

My father's thunderous voice exploded through the phone, making me wince as his anger crackled like a live wire, transmitting his fury directly into my ear. "Are you out of your mind, Karissa? You're supposed to get married today!" he bellowed, his words dripping with incredulity and disgust. The sound of his heavy breathing filled the pause that followed, before he continued, his tone strident.

"I've got people calling me nonstop, asking about your childish post on social media. And I have absolutely no idea what my daughter is up to!" Each word felt like a sharpened blow, cutting deeper than the last, his disappointment and frustration seeping into my chaotic mind.

The old Karissa would have been shattered by her Father's callous words, but I had grown to recognize the icy veneer he wore like a badge of honor. Behind the facade of success and prestige, he was a man who had never truly cared about my feelings or aspirations, only seeking to mold me into a reflection of his own ambitions.

His biting criticism and belittling comments had been a constant presence in my life, chipping away at my confidence and self-worth. My mother's loving nature had once tempered his frostiness, but after her passing, he had unleashed his full fury of disapproval upon me. I had often sought solace in Corwin's parents' warmth and acceptance, but whenever I was forced to be with my Father, I was met with a barrage of cruel jabs and heartless scrutiny - my weight, my dreams, my very essence, nothing was immune from his venomous disdain.