The Mist Between Her And Forever

\\Chapter Twenty Two\\

~And in the end, we were all just humans...drunk on the idea that love, only love could heal our brokenness~

\\Chapter Twenty Two\\

I've always been the type that liked tomorrows. The secret behind this special likeness was that there were no mistakes yet done in tomorrows. It's like a lucid page and the pen is in your possession. You choose whether to fill it up with mistakes or with felicity and memories.

Today was the day I finally witnessed how really dejected I was. Things that I used to like just disappeared into thin air. Tomorrows mean nothing to me now. My pen was forcefully wrested from between my fingers as tragedy wrote down my own story on those clear pages.

Every night, for the passed years, my thoughts weighed heavily on my soul, yet every morning I would get up and prepare for another fight, another day. Every night, I survived, but not anymore. I'd reached my threshold as my energy was slipping away from me. I'd had enough. I was raising my hands up in surrender unable to draw my broken sword to at least defend my weak body.

It felt like staying in bed forever was the only fake bliss I could have. Blankets covered my fragile state, the pillow drank my silent grief, and the mattress held what's left of me. That's how it was.

Slinking sun rays crept from under my curtains, mingling their way towards my face. For the first time ever, I was frightened by the light. It's the same light that shone brightly in everyone's eyes. In the family that I used to have and that was snatched away in a blink of an eye. Fear rolled in my veins of the destruction of such light could bring to me if I witnessed it again. I couldn't withhold the effects of it disappearing all of a sudden. Darkness was way more safer and comforting.

My tired eyes opened slowly as if it's the most exhausting thing to do. My body curled around the blankets, insisting on not functioning today or any other coming day. My lungs refused to get their sufficient amount of oxygen as if punishing themselves for breathing while others weren't. I didn't know what's worse. The fact that it hurt to breath or the idea of breathing by itself.

If this was what survival was going to be like from now on, then I gladly quit. My white flags hovered over my war singling my fall. Half dead, half alive, I blinked hoping for my eyes to shut and never open again. The door creaked noisily as my ears burned with the sound. No additional voices could be tolerated at this point. The whispers inside of my head took a great toll on my ears. It's like I was deaf to my surroundings and attentive to those scratchy whispers roaming in my mind.

Elena slipped carefully into the room holding breakfast in one hand and closing the door with the other. She glanced towards me and as soon as her eyes fell on my state, her posture changed. She broke. I could see it wide and clear. What she's looking at was definitely something unenjoyable. She tried to hide it by a smile, but everything was already seen. Nothing to hide anymore.

"Good morning, sunshine. I made you my delicious breakfast." She spoke melodically as a mother taking care of her sick child. I gazed back at her neutrally, my mouth dry, as if I'd been running for days without water.

She gently placed the plate on my nightstand and sat on the bed beside me.
"How are feeling today? What can I do for you?" Her tone was soft, now, begging for a reply that will never come. She wanted me out of this hellhole that I was so attached to, but didn't know how.

"Christopher called me last night asking me to come here since you weren't feeling well. He stayed the whole night and left a while ago." She spoke fluently as if waiting for a reaction but nothing came out. Her smile slightly wavered, but she quickly caught herself. Her face was smiling yet her eyes held tears. She's struggling to compose herself with everything that's going on.