What Doesn't Kill You

Just Leave Me Alone

Im running. From what, I have no idea. Behind me there is nothing besides a pair of green eyes.

Underneath me I see a road. Ahead of me, I see my mother, calling me.... no. Screaming for me.

Her dark skin is clearly littered with scars and bruises. Her naturally thick and curly hair is dripping with what I choose to believe is water.

I reach out to her, wanting to help. Trying to help. But I can't. Behind me, the creature is gaining on me. It grabs my ankle, and I close my eyes, giving up and wanting it to be over.

I wake up suddenly, breathing hard. I look outside to see that it was still dark. This happens all the time lately, me waking up in the middle of the night from a very weird and creepy dream.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel my stomach tighten once again, the slight pain being a pleasure.

Overthinking once again. Heart heavy with past regrets and memories held of a year that I would never relive if you payed me.

I look to the side at my nightstand at the little red pill the doctors gave me. The pain in my heart gets heavier as I stare at the pill that would stop my aches. But, I continue to refuse to take it. I want to be strong like mother.

Mother...

I never want to allow myself to think about her, or her death at that. But, who can not think about their mother being picked up from the sea, burn scars and bruises littering their features.

It was said that she killed herself because of no other fingerprints. Some even said that she was set on fire, then ran into the sea a second too late. I don't buy it. I would never.

Besides, who ever heard of someone being burned from the inside?

People called her crazy. Crazy for actually thinking. Crazy for not taking the pills that could help with the pain. Just crazy for wanting to be different.

I guess that makes me crazy too.

My face is wet. Tears. Something some people of this land have never heard of.

Oh yeah. Because of the pill. Because of the frequent medication. Right.

Dust falls on my forehead along with little pebbles from the ceiling. Well, what we have to call a ceiling. I cough, tasting hints of blood. It only means I'm starving, I tell myself. The pill would've helped with that too.

I look to my side at my baby brother, who turned five recently, I think. What day exactly? I don't remember. I think I myself am around 13-16 years old. The Adriants outlawed calendars about two and a half years ago. My little brother, dusty as the ceiling, had a content smile on his face. He had light caramel skin, a difference from my dark chocolate color. His curly dark black hair was messily braided as always, as I always preffered mine in a ponytail. He actually took the medication. It made him happy and I couldn't take that from him considering all the crap we went through.

I reluctantly turned my head, stopping me from looking at my brother. My bare feet walked against the rocky ground, shots of pain going through me because of the little pieces of glass. Blood paints some of the pebbles littering the ground as I get on my hands and knees to continue to dig like I have for almost a week now.

After 3 months in this prison, how crazy is it that I only recently started digging?

The hole is already about two feet deep, right above the sewer system as far as I know. My nails are torn to shreds by this point. I would say that my time is near. We only need another week.

A light flickers in my peripheral vision, getting brighter as seconds go by, making my vision a lot clearer than the moonlight in the small window above our metal bed. I would be happy about this light, but I only worry about the person causing it.

I look up and turn my head, looking at the metal bars that separate my little brother and I from the outside world. Light filled the dusty halls and I quickly moved away from my hole. I sat criss crossed in the middle of the room making sure to narrow my eyes and scowl.

A man in a puke green suit and black shiny shoes walked into view and threw bread to me. His black hair was cut to his ears, his skin having an olive tone. His green eyes had a glint in them, having the effect of making him look sneaky and intimidating. The mid size roll hit me square in my chest and fell between my legs.

Not this guy again.

"I knew you would be up. Eat your food. Now." He looks me up and down.

"Just leave me alone." I growl, trying to seem as scary as possible. He chuckles before walking away, dragging his staff along with him.

Before he leaves completely he says something that makes me sick. "You know, you're lucky. I gave you your own private cell separate from the other inmates. I give you medication that can help you. You should thank me. I lead Juria. Show me some respect. "

The light completely goes away and I assume he is gone. Good. We never shared that many words in time of meeting anyway. I wait a few minutes until I go back to my hole.

As I dig, one last thought comes to mind.

I can't believe he is my father.