kiwi || h.s [edited]

Chapter Eleven

Despite my determined phone-call argument with Harry that a manager should never take a day off. Harry threatened to close the store if I attempted to set foot in the little cafe. He deemed my incident from the night before as enough of a reason for a day off. Despite the fact that I hadn't been to work the day before yesterday. After the phone call, I decided to use the extra time for more sleep considering Harry had talked my ear off for most of the night and I had arrived at home a lot later than intended. I liked to hear him talk. He always had something interesting to say and all his words appeared to be carefully weighed and thought-through.

I was beginning to consider the notion that sleep was another addiction of mine. There was a stillness similar to the one provided by the depths of the ocean. Eventually, my body refused to allow me any more time sleeping and I pried my lethargic body from my white sheets. My bare feet pattered to the kitchen for water. Considering it was the first thing to enter my body since the night before, I felt the cold liquid spill into my stomach.

I was drawn again to the sound of the crashing waves and found myself on the porch staring at the horizon again. It was early afternoon and despite the heat of the day, there weren't many people on the beach. Something I rather enjoyed, I guess. The secrecy the beach provided. There were rare people there. Just the constant crashing of waves.

And soon enough I found myself at the shoreline again. I don't know what it was about the ocean that was so alluring and magnetic but I couldn't resist it. And the heat of the day didn't do much to quell that desire. I cautiously stepped further into the water as it swelled around my feet, urging me to just take another step.

Suddenly images from that horrific night flashed in between the idyllic seascape before me. A sharp piercing squeal enveloped me as the sun's light suddenly felt overwhelming. Everything felt far too intense and harsh, every sound far too loud and there was only one escape.

I swiftly moved my body deep enough to the point where I could tuck it beneath the cooling blanket. I had to wait though. I waited for about three counts before I caught a wave heading in my direction. At exactly the right moment, I tucked my heavy head beneath the wave. And there it was.

The silence. The softening. The harsh would was muted to a gentle and cool embrace.

I decided to open my eyes. It stung at first but after a few harsh blinks, the pain subsided. Everything around me was dark and as much as that should've freaked me out, cause I mean shark or something but I was elated. There was nothing demanding my attention. Nothing urging me to do something or feel something.

I swam deeper and deeper until I was totally submerged in darkness and the only light I was afforded was in the dim distance above me. My lungs started stinging again but I knew remaining calm was the only way to continue to reveal in the silence I have been afforded.

'Relax' I tell myself as it feels as if flames are licking my chest.

The key was to refrain from panicking. For at least just a few more seconds.

Eventually, when my lungs felt as if they were are the verge of combustion, I pushed my weight until I broke the surface and I heard my desperate cry for air. At it rushed in, the adrenaline of survival rushed in too but along with the strong reminder that the pain is there. It's always there. Like an unrelenting drum.

It was clearly one of my weaker days. Where the ache was so unbearable that even flames licking my skin seemed like a delightful alternative. I rushed back into the vacant home with seawater dripping all around me. Luckily no family members were around to witness my pathetic attempt at diluting my pain. I shuffled into the bathroom where I caught my dreadful reflection in the mirror. Seeing myself broken and life-less causes the welled up tears to stream down my face as I began ripping the drenched clothing from my quivering body.

I had hoped the shower would calm my trembling hands but the scorching water did nothing more than making them bright pink. Sometimes I think we give a shower too much credit as if all that water could wash away all the shit that we have harbored within us. As if, if we stood there long enough, eventually dark muddy patches would fall and all the shitty emotions we feel will flow down that drain. But after scrubbing my skin relentlessly and throwing on fresh clothes. I was still exhausted. I was still grieving. I was still in more pain than I was willing to admit.

I grabbed the book on my table and decided that diving into Pi's horrid story somehow made my life seem far less tragic and somewhat insignificant. I don't know when or how but I must have been more exhausted than I thought because before I knew it I was enveloped in a dark slumber. The darkness didn't last long though, soon it morphed into a scene I have imprinted in my memory. The sound of his body hitting the floor. The sound that echoed the end of everything. His lifeless body rolled around until it found its comfortable position while a beast continued his attack on me.

I shot up from the white sheets with sweat dripping down my forehead.

'Breathe'

'Breathe'

'Breathe'

I coached myself before pulling my knees into my chest.

'I hate you!' I whispered into my knees as I dug my nails into the flesh. I hate him for turning me into a broken doll.

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