Kalopsia

Chaos

trigger warning.

CHAOS

She woke up in that bed, a million voices talking all at once. All hers. Chaos of thoughts that made no sense. And she couldn't focus on one without another talking over.

A cannon sat at the back of her neck. Spitting balls of fire that grew bigger until they crashed against her head, splinters of words flying around in its wake with each pound of throbbing pain.

But she remained still, her hands near her head like a waking toddler's stance as white dried on her fingertips and cold brushed her naked body like the fluttering of a silk curtain.

Then all the voices stopped, like switch turned off. But that's when it began. That's when it snapped.

Her stomach coiled in a tight loop as the chaos melted into tears that trailed down her temples leaving hot streaks of moisture. The air constricted yet accommodated the warm breaths that danced through her gritted teeth.

She held back, all that in that single fragile body. Sadly it wasn't her day. It had never been. And the trembling grew slowly, soft paced like a siren before the storm. So ominous it scared her.

She was shuddering, trying to cage what she felt before it could destroy her, that shadow stepping out to kill its own purpose.

She could have given anything at that moment to curl up into a ball of mess, but those thousand hands seemed to keep her down. Their fingertips like vines curling around her neck, those sweet voices that sensually whispered all her little black deeds

If only she could be back in her mother's womb, blissfully unaware. If only she had never woken up. Never breathed or cried. Never been a burden.

Never been Phoebe.