{Interitus (noun) - the action or process of causing so much damage to something that it no longer exists or cannot be repaired.}
TWO WEEKS, THREE DAYS AND THREE HOURS LATER
y/n's pov:
I fear I may never sleep again.
I can't figure out how to turn the consistent noise off. Even turning it down slightly would be an improvement.
But it's there all the time, and therefore, I cannot rest.
Every day feels longer and somehow worse than the last and yet all I do is exist through the minutes. They are always there; watching, whispering. I can hear them when they speak, mostly because they're never particularly far away.
The idea of sleeping whilst awake and suffering is so deceiving that sometimes my body will just give in, and I'll drift off back to that day two months ago where everything went wrong.
And then the cycle continues.
Even that in itself is exhausting.
So, most days, I spend my time desperately trying to stay awake so I can avoid reliving the worst few days of my life.
I avoid interacting with the others the best I can, so much so that now they don't even bother trying, they just let me get on with it. Fry and Min put in their best effort, but in the end even they saw it to be a lost cause.
Gally and Bren avoid me at any given situation, while Amos and Fi barely look in my direction. I've not seen Newt for weeks, either. I'm certain he wouldn't want to see me anyway.
It's better this way – I couldn't live with myself if I brought them down with me. It was inevitable to cut ties, and soon, I will move on and finally be alone.
Everyone will be better for it.
And so, I sit silently besides the dark lake in the fields, among the grass and the insects and I wish to some higher power that it was me that was stolen that day, and not Thomas.
I wonder to myself if there's any way to change that, to correct the mistake I made and to join those we've lost.
I could rid my body from this world and all I could hope was that those I would be leaving behind would be better for it.
And while that thought has plagued me these past months there was always someone stopping that from progressing.
It's my fault that he's not here now to comfort me. It's all my doing.
But even with my blonde swarming my thoughts and the yearning for him that tormented me, I still found the lake ever so inviting.
It's as if it knew my name – knew what I wanted.
It knows I'm tired and need to rest, and it's inviting me in to stay.
It can feel the cold on my skin, knowing I need some warmth to keep me company while my clothes do nothing to keep my body temperature stable.
But the feeling is only worsened when I dip my fingertips into the lake, smiling contently as the water washes over my knuckles and the freezing feeling joins in with the rest.
It soothes my heart as it pounds; quietens the blood rushing in my ears.
I can hear the water speaking to me – can feel the way it's trying to pull me in, and I think to myself that maybe today I could let it.
The water could take me with it and maybe then I would finally stop harming those around me.
It would accept me as I am and take me in without issue. I could finally see them again, and I'd no longer be bothering those I care about.
