𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

πενήντατέσσερα ; 54

song of the chapter:
FORWARDS BECKON REBOUND ; adrianne lenker

No matter how happy a story may seem, how perfect ones life may look behind the screen they look upon, the true feelings of someone are hidden. Hidden away, barricaded, locked behind thick walls nobody may break down. No matter how many smiles they may give out and how their hugs feel like home, they may be hurting. How they remember the nights they used to wish to fall asleep and never wake up?

How can they know, or remember when they rejected the help that they obviously needed? How her bones peaked through her skin, her head spinning every time she stood up. How the girl you may idolise, can only remember the time they stood in place, watching everything fall apart?

She does.

She remember sitting on her bed,

rocking back and forth,

crying,

all because she didn't know.

While they sit on their comfortable beds, scrolling on their phones surrounded with their friends, all she could do was remember calling into nothingness, while it echos into the void, right back in her face. Nobody was there to save her, her mind weak, hurting, but even after offered help she only could decline and hope she could fix it on her own. 

How she would wait for the echos incase someone called back,

Or how she eventually stopped waiting, because she found comfort in nothing echoing back?

Sat on top of his bed,

Staring into the darkness,

thinking,

Why am I here?

How even after she could give all the hugs and smiles to everyone in the world, the deep memory in the back of her mind, forcing her to remember when she flinched because she thought everyone was like him.

While their sat eating their warm meal, freshly out of the oven, sat around a large dinner table with their families, all she could remember was how she watched her food go cold. She remembers how her hands trembled as the food sat untouched, staring at the plate like it was mocking her. The voices of those around her blurred, distant, while she silently battled the noise in her head. How can she explain that the food didn't taste like comfort anymore, that it wasn't nourishing her? The laughter and clinking of glasses echoed around her, but it only made the emptiness within her grow louder, heavier.

Sitting across the room, she saw her reflection in the darkened window, a ghost of the person. She didn't even recognise herself anymore, The girl who had dreams, who believed in something more than just surviving each day, was now just a shell of her former self if you'd rather.

Even after all these years, when she sits alone in her room, the silence feels suffocating. She thinks back to the countless moments when she sat there, hoping for something, anything, to break the silence. A knock at the door, a message, someone to just ask, "Are you okay?" But nothing ever came. The walls, once a sanctuary, now feel like a prison. They've heard every sob, every whisper she's never had the strength to share with the world.

The others didn't notice.

They never did.

She flinches again. Not from pain or fear, but from the memory of it. From the time when trust felt like a mistake. When she believed everyone could hurt her the way he did. Now, even in the arms of someone who swears to protect her, she can't help but feel the cold sting of betrayal lurking in the shadows, reminding her that safety is an illusion. How can she be expected to believe it when she once believed him, too?

They may look at her and see someone strong, independent, resilient. They see the smiles, hear the laughter, and think she has it all figured out. But they don't see the nights she spends sitting at the edge of her bed, staring at the floor, knees pulled to her chest, wondering how she can keep pretending. Wondering if it's even worth it.

She shakes her head, as if trying to shake off the weight of her thoughts.

But the darkness doesn't go away.

It's always there.

It follows her.

It's the constant companion, lurking just behind her smiles, just beneath her skin.

And the saddest part?

She's not sure she wants it to leave.

Because sometimes, the darkness is the only thing that feels familiar.

--- end of chapter