Not Really There | FILLIE

nine - to build a home

song - To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra 

~"There is a house built out of stone
Wooden floors, walls and window sills
Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust
This is a place where I don't feel alone
This is a place where I feel at home"~

As soon as she stepped foot into the house, she felt weird. The house was normal, the paint slightly peeling and the rooms starkly bare of furniture, no photos to show her what her family looked like. Millie spent her time walking through the downstairs of the house, her heart feeling heavier with every step, part of her expecting more. She was expecting everything to click into place, like she would suddenly remember everything and feel whole as a person. But the hole inside of her was still there, still eating away at her soul like it had been doing ever since she could remember. She felt no connection to the house, no feelings of warmth rushing over her like she was finally home. 

Finn tugged on her hand lightly as if to remind her that he was there, nudging her to the stairs as if asking if she wanted to continue. Millie gave him a curt nod, knowing that she couldn't stop now, hoping that there would be something that would help all of this make sense to her. When they reached the last room of the house, tucked away in the corner as if it didn't even exist, she gulped when she noticed her name on the door next to a drawing of a sunflower. 

When the door opened, a million feelings rushed through her body at once. The walls painted a light purple color, her duvet covered in small rainbows with the sheets still messy as if she had just woke up in them. Everything was still in place, as if Millie had just left to go out for the day with a friend, books still open on her bedside table and fairy lights still turned on. Her breath hitched as she walked over slowly to the other side of the room, a board full of pictures and different drawings that she could vaguely recognize. The drawings were mainly flowers, all in pencil as if she was afraid to use pens, all held up by thin red string to connect them all like a row of beautiful flowers. Some of the pictures made her freeze, images of her laughing with people that must have been her friends, people that she no longer recognized. There was a group picture of her with two adults, a younger girl holding onto her leg and a taller boy beside her with the same smile that she saw in the mirror everyday. 

"That must be your family" Finn spoke up weakly. 

Her voice cracked. "Y-Yeah."

"Do you remember-"

She swallowed. "No. I don't remember anything."

Finn looked down, not knowing what he could do except tighten his grip on her hand. She was still limp and frozen, staring at the pictures as if trying to commit them to memory, like she was afraid that she was going to forget again. He tried to lighten the mood, hoping to distract her from the crushing reality that nothing had changed. 

"You are good at drawing" he tried to smile, "really good."

"Was" she pointed out sadly, "I was good."

He looked down with a small sigh, not knowing if there was anything that he could do to help. He hated seeing her so disappointed, hating it more than her yelling at him or making fun of him. He would take anything over the sad look in her eyes, as if she had lost all hope and didn't see a point anymore. He wanted to convince her that she still had a reason to keep trying, but even he couldn't see a way out. 

Millie broke away from his grip on his hand, walking over to her books. One of them was open, small passages highlighted as if she liked to make note of her favorite sections, the idea almost making her smile. The Millie that she used to be didn't sound that bad, she almost wished that she was still the same carefree girl who liked drawing flowers and highlighting her favorite lines in books. Her bedside table was full of books, and Millie could vaguely remember how much she used to love sitting down and enjoying a new story, a certain ache being left in her heart after she finished one, like she needed a happy ending to keep her going. It seemed as if she could remember small insignificant details, things that didn't matter, nothing helping to bring her old life back. That was what she wanted more than anything.