Liberation [completed]

Black Hole- Mia

It was him. I knew it in my blood and in every nerve of my body. My father- the man I had cared about for so long. The man who was supposed to be dead or homeless at some dirty corner of a street. He was at Asher's parent's house as a guest. His hair had greyed and he had a beard now. His face had aged so much and his clothes looked so neat and clean. Everything about him had changed, the man I remembered would never have compared to the distinguished, sophisticated man I saw in the crowd. 

My heart was beating wildly in my chest and I could hear it loudly in my ears. The buzzing from all the thoughts running in my head made it hard for me to focus or hear. The applause that had been showering over us seemed to have died out at that very instant. White noise deafens my ears. I felt my body grow slack as the urge of wanting to run far away returns. I felt like I was being chased again, but not by anyone in particular but by time. The cruel, mean part of my brain laughed at me and mocked me for even thinking that I had recovered. 

How could you have recovered? You're meant to be weak. You're meant to be hopeless. You're supposed to be alone. Did you think that he was going to stay? Once he finds out what you really are like, he will ask you to leave. But you will stupidly stay till he kicks you out. You're that naive. You're worthless. 

The shields of optimism and positivity I had so painfully built in the past months have crashed and crumbled. I could only see and feel their debris and it was suffocating me. I puked the minute I got back to the apartment. I needed to get rid of those thoughts. How could I have been so naive to think that this lifestyle was meant for me? I wasn't allowed to live this way. I had no right to have a boyfriend. I wasn't meant to be loved. I was a beast without any redeeming qualities no matter how much you tried to dig, you'd never find a good quality when it came to me. I was as weak and empty. 

I wasn't meant to be happy. Bad things happened when I was happy. 

Over the next few days, I couldn't bring myself to eat or drink or live. I didn't want to. I had lost my will to do it the minute I saw those ice-blue eyes. They clashed with mine and forced me to remember them, acknowledge them. They willed me to remember. What was worse was the love and relief behind it. He thought I was fine. He thought his mistakes hadn't ruined me. He must have seen me before that moment. He must have seen me walk down the aisle with Asher and he must have seen Asher talking to me,  holding me and kissing me. 

His eyes haunted me, day and night. They switched between the ones I had seen as a child to the ones I had grown up remembering and wishing to see when he came to save me, to the ones in the tent. Betrayal ripped through my heart each time I saw his eyes, it repeated it's torture mercilessly. Betrayed by the only person whom I thought loved me. Turns out he didn't. His eyes mocked me in my sleep and in my waking hours. My brain mocked me too. It punched, kicked, stomped and stabbed at my resolve reminding me that I was meant to be weak. 

I was stupid to think, things could be different this time. I don't know what came over me but the hope that was being crushed inside of me left a vacuum inside of me. I felt the shortness of breath each time I thought of all those dreams I had about a future crumbling before me. I was slowly crawling back into my hole of protection. This time I had wandered so far out that it felt harder and longer to get back. 

I missed him so much. I missed his touch, I missed his kisses, I missed the way his hair felt, I missed his hands around me. 

Asher never left me physically. He was there every night- I had lost count of the nights and days. But every night or most night he was there. He brought me my food and he stayed till I fell asleep. He didn't sleep in my bed, he slept on the floor. It was as though he knew what I was doing to myself and he wanted to make it harder for me to detach myself again. His commitment each night made me falter in my hike back to my dark, black hole. He talked about his day and he asked me how mine was but I could only nod and I knew Martha would have told him what I did- nothing. He'd ask me to go see the street below but I didn't have the heart. Plus I had committed it to memory. I knew that when he asked me to leave, that was amongst the few things that I will go back to for solace.