Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

6 4 ~ A n n a

                

Flashback ~ December 30, 2010

They aren't dead.

I'm not dead.

This isn't actually happening right now.

I tell this to myself over and over as I feel the tears stream down my face, my bare feet crunching through the branches and ice of the vacant woods. I hope to God that I'm heading in the right direction; the bite of winter so intense that I can no longer feel my feet. At this point, though, I'm not sure if I care to.

I'm really not sure about anything anymore.

I stop running, stop pushing past the trees that are caging me in. When I glance over my shoulder in a rushing moment of panic, the leaves and roots and undergrowth get their grasp on me. They pull me down, and before I know it, the darkness is pressing me into the muddy snow.

God, I did this. This is all my fault. If I had just kept my mouth shut, this wouldn't have happened.

I dig my fingers into my hair, pressing my face into the ground with a curdling scream. I can't take it anymore. I can't keep going like nothing happened. I can't just do what Caesar says... not now. It's too much.

I let myself cry. I let the trees stand over me like demons, let them stand and laugh. I don't think about how my toes and fingers are numb to a point of no return.

I crumple into the ground and let the it all tear me apart like a pack of wolves. Snarling teeth, bloody and denatured. I let it all eat me from the inside out. Freezing me until I can't move. Breathing me in and out but not stopping long enough to let me breathe too.

Twisting, pulling, biting.

Freezing.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

I'm not sure what comes next. Or even who I am anymore.

The girl I used to know is slowly drifting away, but I'm not quite sure when I lost track of her.