Addicted 2 Moni(editing before completion for book publishing reason)

The Unspoken

 The Weight of Silence

Blood slides slow down my face, stinging my left eye until I blink the burn away. The warm trail mixes with sweat and the grime caked on my skin. I've long forgotten what clean feels like. The pain? I remember that. It's always here.

My arms are twisted behind the steel pole I've been strapped to for—God knows how long. The zip ties cut into my wrists every time I shift. My shoulders pop every few hours. Maybe they've dislocated. Or maybe they've just stopped caring.

Like me.

I can stand, at least. I keep my legs under me as much as I can, even though they tremble like cheap scaffolding. Sitting down too long makes the cold crawl up my spine and into my skull. I learned that early. I stand even when I want to fall. Even when my knees scream.

Even when she's lying there—

Motionless. Chained to a broken bed frame like something discarded.

She hasn't stirred in two days. Her breath still comes—shallow and steady, but just enough to know she hasn't crossed over. I count her breaths in the dark. That's how I tell time now.

The fluorescent bulb overhead buzzes like it's losing its will to live. Half-lit. Flickering. Like it pities us. Or mocks us.

She used to sing under her breath. Whisper names when she thought I wasn't listening. Not for herself. Not even for me.

For the ones she left behind.

I didn't ask who they were. Didn't need to. The way her voice cracked around them told me everything. Names carried like a rosary. Held like a thread back to sanity. Names that must've meant everything—maybe a daughter, a son, someone worth remembering when the world forgets you.

She clings to the sound of them even now. Even when her body is more bruise than skin.

And now...

Now there's that slow, unnatural swell beneath her shirt. Quiet. Steady. Like time refusing to stop, even here. I see it when I shouldn't. When I don't want to.

I don't let the word come.

If I don't say it, maybe it isn't real.

But it's there between us. Heavy. Living. A thing that grew in silence while everything else was dying.

I twist against the pole again and feel blood break from my wrists. I ignore it. Focus on the sound of my breath. The rhythm. In. Out. Repeat.

I haven't said a word in weeks. But my mind is loud.

I'm coming undone in silence.

And underneath it all—

I still want to live. Even if I hate the man I've become. Even if I don't recognize him anymore.

Even if she never wakes up to see me again.

Dream-State: 

There's water.

Warm. Moving slow over my skin like sunlight and breath. It smells like lavender and something from before. A perfume I used to wear when I had somewhere to be.

I think I'm wearing white. It's soft. Clean. I don't know what I'm waiting for, but someone's humming a song. I know the melody. I don't remember the words.

I turn my head and he's there. The man with tired eyes and a heart I used to believe in.

His hands aren't shaking here. He's not broken here.

He says my name but I can't hear it. He smiles, but it's the kind of smile that says goodbye.

I try to speak but my mouth won't open. I try to run, but the ground feels like honey and glue.

Then I hear her.

"Mom."

That voice—

So small. So full of life. I spin around.

Nothing.

I clutch my stomach—

—and wake up in the dark again.

Still chained. Still sore. Still her.

++++++++++++++++++++

She flinches in her sleep. The first sign of movement in days. Her fingers curl and her legs twitch like she's caught in a nightmare.

Or maybe... maybe she heard that voice again.

Whoever she dreamed about.

Whatever life she's trying to hold onto.

She deserves to wake up to a world that still has a place for her.

And if I ever get out of here—if I ever see sunlight again—

I'll burn this whole place to the fucking ground.

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I did this on purpose because i know i haven't posted in awhile but hella drama coming soon!