Blake
It all is like a siren call I can't ignore. I'm drowning in it. Every thought is consumed by her absence. Every breath I take feels empty without her here. What's the point in living if she's not here?
I thought I could handle this. I thought I could be one to keep it together, to stay in control. But now, I'm just a man slowly unraveling, one thread at a time. And every thread pulls me closer to madness.
I stand up pacing back and forth across my office, the floor creaking under my boots. The walls seem to close in on me, the air growing thick, suffocating. I can't breathe. I can't think.
Penelope.
I'm losing my mind. I know I am. I know it's happening. But I can't stop it. I can't stop this obsession and need of finding her. I can't stop searching for answers I'll never find.
I collapse back into my chair, the pencil still clutched tightly in my hand. I stare at the empty wall infront of me, my breath coming in shallow, erratic gasps. I feel like I'm losing myself, like I'm becoming someone I don't recognize. A madman. Him.
Penelope... The name whispers through my thoughts again. It's like curse, a mantra, a prayer I can't escape. I can't hold it together anymore. I've tried. I've tried so damn hard. But nothing works.
I bury my face in my hands, pressing my palms into my eyes, willing the tears not to come. I'm a commander. I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to lead sylvan, to keep everything together, to make the hard decisions. But right now, all I want to do is crumble, to collapse under the weight of my own failure.
I sigh, the sound heavy in the room. I'm tired. So tired. Tired of being strong. Tried of pretending. Tired of this never-ending burden of leadership, of responsibility. I never asked for this. I never asked to be the one holding everything together. I never fucking asked to be like him.
I run my hand through my hair, letting out a long, frustrated breath. My heart aches, and my chest feels like it's closing in on me. I can't do this anymore. I can't.
But I have to. I'm the one who's left standing. I'm the one left with the shattered pieces of everything I've failed to protect.
I close my eyes, resting my head against the desk, my body sinking into the chair like a broken shell. There's no one left to hold onto. No one to blame except myself.
Penelope.
I can't stop saying her name. I don't want to stop, I never want to stop loving her. Even if it kills me.
YOU ARE READING
The fall
FantasíaFor generations, the Dorothea family has borne what they call a "curse," though others whisper of it as a dark inheritance-a twisted irony for a name that means "Gift of God." This so-called gift was anything but divine. It was said that when the mo...
