That Thing Between You and Me

38. Where it All Began

Dedicated to shotdeadkid.

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Chapter 38 | Where it All Began

"I think that some things are meant to be broken. It's the universe's way of providing contrast, you know? There have to be a few holes in the road. Only then you appreciate the good things."

-Sarah Desson, Saint Anything

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(A few years ago)

Hope sustains life. For years, Mallory was a firm believer of it. Even though, she did not have a lot of experience, but the little snippets she could remember made her believe that hope always worked. Like when she was young, she hoped that her mother would recover from her father's selfish departure; and it took years for the pain and rage to subside completely, but it did, eventually.

A few years later, she remembered clutching by her mother's skirt even as she delivered the eulogy on her Nana's funeral. Whilst she heard her mother tear up, she wanted nothing more than her to stop crying. She had faith that it would pass. And pass, it did. Time did heal her wounds.

Also, when she was eight and her brother was down with a severe case of pneumonia, she could almost see herself sitting at his bedside table wishing him to be alright. It was only after two long days when he opened his eyes and whispered a weak albeit cheeky, "Smelly Melly." It was one of the best moments of her life.

It was a pattern, really. The best moments came right after the worst ones. Perhaps, that's what life was really all about. The prospect of darkness made other moments even brighter. And she wasn't complaining. She was fairly optimistic. And always had hope, hope that everything would be alright.

Until now.

As she stood there in a tiny red room, she could still relive what she deemed to be the worst moment of her life. In the past month, she had seen a lot she wouldn't wish upon anyone. She had been starved, beaten, locked up and scarred for life. And even when most injuries were superficial, the scars in her mind were perhaps permanently etched. But nothing that happened to her came close to what she did.

She could still hear the faint party music playing downstairs. She could hear the footsteps going up and down the stairs. She could feel the weapon in her hand. She could see the terrified look in Emily's eyes. She could hear the resounding of the gunshot. She could feel the recoil of gun making her drop the weapon.

She had killed someone.

And for the first time since her abduction, she felt like she deserved the punishment.

But that still didn't stop the formidable sense of claustrophobia that was sunk deep into her bones. It had only been a few hours but it already felt like it had been days. Incidentally, she had to spend three whole days without food and water right in that room. But that was somehow easier. Maybe because she could easily give in to unconsciousness. Maybe because she didn't have the guilt weighing her down.

But now, she felt like she couldn't breathe. Everytime she would close her eyes, she could see the redness which seemed to have seeped deep into the back of her eyelids. She didn't have any space to move around, she couldn't sit, she couldn't sleep, all she could do was look at the already tiny walls coming close.

So close.

And then even closer.

Until they seemingly touched the seams of her body and then...