Returning Red

#20: Embracing Cracks.

like rain, I fell for you

Isabella

I flicked my eyes open. The room is dark, and the only source of light is the light from the glass windows of the resort outside. I turn around on the bed I'm sleeping in, everything is a hushed silence. There is so much reticence that I can hear my heart beating very calmly and slowly. This pace is something that I desired for so many months.  

It only takes a moment for the entire night to rush back as flares in my head. Everything hits me and I am unanticipatedly wide awake. I stare at the ceiling with the chandelier that is now at a standstill. This was my biggest breakdown ever. My neurasthenia senses have been off track but they hadn't gone so berserk yet. I had done things I'd never ordeal before. I had screamed, I had wept, I was acting like a complete psycho and now as I think of it, I'm to the nth degree, embarrassed. I don't know how Katherine would react to this, she would be utterly sordid that she failed at being a therapist because her mentee had just gone cuckoo. 

The pills. That is where they all began. As I think of it, I begin to feel nauseous. The thought of the yellow bottle and its white lid with white huge pills jangling inside makes me squeamish now. I gulp, washing the taste away and the memory of it tagging along. 

I want to blur this episode of my life. I am never going to become so weak ever again. Especially now that I feel so light and stressless, there is absolutely no thought that is charging at me or no weight that is weighing me down. I think this is exactly what I needed, rely on the bonds and just break free. I'm quietly proud of myself that the thought of the pills makes me feel sick. That is a small victory in disguise that I was trying to achieve for so many years. 

Avoiding drug abuse has always been a cautious lesson in my mind. But reaching a point where I would feel pill-sick is my newfound freedom which I want to embrace thoroughly. 

I turn around and to my side, I see May fast asleep. Surprisingly, her pace is quicker than mine and I cannot actually digest how relaxed I am. She's curled up perfectly under her quilt, and her quilt is so neatly wrapped around her, that it almost looks like she hasn't moved to safeguard the quilt's setup. 

I slowly sit on my side, scared that if I move the bed too much, she would wake up. I glance in front of the bed, narrowing my eyes at the scene ahead of me. The room is very dim to make out the details but I spot an additional bed placed across the adjacent wall. The bed is as big as the main layout but it is shorter in height. 

I notice Jason and Liam sleeping far-flung from each other. This distance between them makes me smile, but they're both sleeping on their stomachs, gravely matching their positions. The quilt on them is completely deranged. They're both using separate quilts which all the more looks extra messy. Yet, two quilts cannot completely wrap them up, because Jason's upper body is fully visible to me from my position and I can see Liam's leg hanging outside the bed. 

I roll my eyes, and this feels weird. I wonder how that habit had slipped through my years of growing up away from home. Rolling my eyes made me smile even more. 

My eyes unmistakably look for him. There's a couch near the study table, newly placed. It's a dark orange couch that looks cushiony but I'm guessing it feels like a cloud even though it isn't as big as the beds. Since the curtains from the glass windows are slightly open, the light from outside is falling on his face. His hand is placed above his head, maybe to block his eyes from the lights. He's sleeping on his back, adjusting his tall frame on that small couch. His shirt doesn't have a collar anymore. He's changed to a simple t-shirt, which is plain white as it looks from here, and yet, I can make out his skin from underneath it.