Entendre

17.4: Carcass

I knew where I had to go. I locked myself in and felt the white tiled walls of the familiar escape; it was the only place that knew me as I was. Stripped down to the very core without even saying a word of what was wrong. It was simply there, silent and waiting for me to burst out these things that fogged my vision and made me want to detach my skin from my bones.

I turned the handle of the shower and felt the water on my skin—cold, like ice cubes numbing the palm of one's hand. I could hear the snap of the music from my phone, echoing the rigid and quick beats of the song around the four corners of the area. I took in a deep breath, closed my eyes, and just let it flow through my veins. Now that I've said it, it was so evident what I was doing. Of course everybody had their dirty little secrets—I was no exception.

This was the only place I knew that knew the realest me but never spoke a word. My body moved, my arms and feet just snapping to follow the rhythm of the quick-paced song. The water trickled down my skin—I felt it, soaking my hair and my body.

Outside these small, four-cornered walls, they could only see my not-so-innocent self, unable to move freely like everybody could. Sometimes I wish they knew, but of course nobody really saw beyond that. It made me cry sometimes and I would silently tear up about it in that place, but I figured that it was always human flaw to blame.

But you know the thing about human flaws? It was extremely volatile. It was so treacherous of me to use it against people, but it was my only form of 'proper' self-defense. Even if I didn't mean to do it, it just kicked in and before I knew it, I just stopped stopping it.

I will reflect what they see. It's the reason for my self-agony. Not really. It just disappointed me how I was really seen. Of course I really didn't put an effort at changing everybody's perception of me—after all, what's the point of it? Better for them to live without knowing how many secrets I've kept from everyone.

There I was, moving like a maniac and just releasing the unknown emotions inside me. Even I couldn't define it. The feeling was dead to me to the point that I don't know if it was still an emotion.

Snap. Snap. Snap. They were such agile movements that even I didn't know what I was doing. Snap. Snap. Snap. The area wasn't big, and my elbows crashed against the tiles, causing those snapping and probably cracking sounds—but I didn't really care.

My skin grew hot under the cold water and for a second I felt alive. My arms began to hurt and my movements slowed down, the song going on repeat again, urging me to move my body once more to follow its rhythm. I obeyed helplessly, trying to forget these thoughts in my head.

I tried, I tried so fucking bad, and they did disappear for a little while. I breathed in and washed my hair and my body properly this time, the suds going in my eyes because I still insisted on moving to the same song.

I don't know how long I was in there. The song repeated in an innumerable amount of time until I felt my fingers pruning up. When I finally couldn't move my body, my arm probably sprained from the effort and force of each impact on the walls, I sighed and decided that I should return to my reality.

It was good while it lasted. That place always offered me an escape despite the small, rectangular- four-cornered area. I thought, I really did, that I've gone and done it—that I've forgotten, but the moment I stepped out and stopped the song playing on my phone, I remembered again.

I still couldn't forget.