― 𝒃𝒆𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏.
❝ no, i am not nice or lovely.
i am just a pair of shaky hands
and an empty body
numbed by pills.
please don't think i am more.
i don't know if i am. ❞
or, in whic...
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BEYOND THIS ILLUSION (book one). °• INTRODUCTION •°
" BUT I'M STILL CRIPPLED. "
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IDA TUCKER WAS COVERED FROM HEAD TO TOE IN SWEAT.She had stood in an upright position, her long coil hair falling back behind her. She panted, taking a few deep breaths before bouncing to her bag sat on a chair, digging through it to retrieve both the remote to the radio and her water bottle. Ida pressed a red button, effectively shutting off the speaker that was making noise and stopping the music she had been practicing to. Satisfied, she popped the cap off of her bottle and took a long drink, soothed by the icy coldness that calmed her from overheating.
"Ida, Ida, Ida!" Natasha, one of Ida's close friends, ticked as she clasped her hands together. The studio made a thumping noise as she bounded over to join her. "I truly think that was your best yet."
Her brown cheeks flushed a deeper pink. "Really?" Ida checked, shyer than before, fiddling with her water bottle that she had covered once more.
"Oh, absolutely. You're gonna kill it," Natasha reassured her. Ida smiled widely, watching as she crouched to swipe up the strap of her own bag and hang it on her shoulder. "You need a ride home?" She offered politely. "I wouldn't mind. It's getting late."
Ida only shrugged. She packed away her water bottle, swapped it for a pair of headphones, tugged the cord out, and plugged it into her phone. "No, it's alright," she dismissed. Her thumb flicked across the screen she unlocked, opening the Spotify app and searching for her favorite playlist. "My parents don't expect me at a specific time and besides..." Ida paused, shrugging on her coat and grabbing her bag. "I love long, late-night walks."
"Well, text me when you get home." Natasha smiled, her blue eyes flickering Ida up and down. It's so subtle that Ida almost misses it. "I'll see you later, Ida." She leaves then, using the front door that led to the parking lot.
Meanwhile, Ida opted for the back Exit door, letting it shut behind her with a click, signaling that it had locked. She flicked her hood up to cover her head seconds after the music started blasting through the buds and into her ears. Later on, Ida would wonder if she would have walked in silence then maybe she would have heard the footsteps approaching behind her. Her sneakers were slapping across the sidewalk's concrete due to the slight bounce in her step. She was happy. Ida's life was going great, thanks to all of her hard work. And that was enough, at the time.
The doctors described how Ida doesn't remember the memory of the incident as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from the trauma. She doesn't recall what she felt. Not at first.
