Forbidden Love

~ 30

Every time someone feels emotional pain, it doesn't hurt as a cut or a bruise would. It's just this heavy feeling. Your head spins and it's as if your tongue feels too big for your mouth. You feel the need to wipe away non-existent tears that you want to form but they won't.

Slowly I tried to get up but quickly realized how futile it was when I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. Sharp pain lanced through my head and colorful spots flashed in front of my eyes, it felt like my whole body had been beaten and every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache. Yuree was hovering over me - I remembered that - stroking my hair over and over, saying it would be alright with a voice that betrayed her tears. I was told I passed out for a time and I supposed that was a blessing. I had never felt anything so sweet as that morphine, taking me away onto a cloud of the purest nothing.

When I came out of the hospital that day and went back to my house- back to my old bedroom, I had never felt so alone, so lost. So incapable of doing even the smallest tasks. And this was only the beginning, the beginning of the pain, the suffering and the endless congo line of emotions that were in store for me. My heartache had rung me out until I was dry inside, no more tears would come. My insides still felt as raw as if a winter wind was blowing right through my skin. The last conversation haunted me, taunted me, replaying like an echo. My appetite had dwindled to nothing. I kept the curtains closed so that I wouldn't have to witness life going on as usual. How could it when my world had crumbled?

When the sadness came, my appetite was ash on the floor. The food got stuck, four bites and I was done. The urge to cry came and go, chaotic, powerful, spilling hot tears. In between the floods, it sat heavy on my heart. My tiredness made me hang limp like wet laundry on a cold still day. I felt like every muscle was giving into gravity. What I wanted everyday was sleep, a nice warm bed and a solid night of dreams.

One night while I was on the bed, staring on the ceiling into nothingness, the door was knocked from the outside. I never locked the door, usually anyone would just come inside and found me either sleeping or just gazing out of the closed windows.

"Camila?"

For the first time ever since I left the hospital, I felt something. I felt the anger radiating in me as I slowly turned towards the door. "W-what do you want?"

"I want to check if you're okay," Austin had walked in, closing the door after him. He made his way towards my vanity and pulled out the chair before he put it next to my bed and sat down.

"I'm fucking amazing," I muttered through gritted teeth, clenching my fist on the blanket. "Just go away."

"Camila, I just want to help," He pleaded. "Please, just, give me a chance."

"What chance?! Are you happy now that he's gone?!" I looked over the door and pretended like I was looking for something. "Where's dad, huh? Why aren't you guys celebrating yet for successfully ruining my life? Where's the oh, congratulations and the pop of a fucking champagne?!"

"Camila!"

"Go ahead! Touch me, I fucking dare you, Austin!" I was standing right in front of him as he raised his hands up, my heart beating rapidly on my chest. My body was shaking uncontrollably from the anger that radiated in me, I felt like my heart was about to jumped out of its cage.

"I'm sorry," Austin wrapped his hand on his face and sat down on the chair. "I'm sorry. But please, Camila, just give me one chance to help you. I hate seeing you like this, you.. you haven't eaten anything."

I walked towards my bed slowly, every steps I took felt so hard, so terrible. The nausea that I had been having made me feel even sicker than I had ever been.