𝑨𝑬𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑼𝑺 𝑴𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑰𝑨 •𝒃𝒙𝒃•

Some things never change

The metal of the doorknob was cold on his skin, but he made no move to open the door. The wind was biting at his exposed skin, sending painful shivers down his spine. He heard no sounds coming from inside the house, but that didn't mean that she was asleep. Lightly breathing in, he pulled the doorknob down and the door clicked open a moment later.

He was greeted by darkness. The wind grew harsher, and it even started whistling, so he quickly stepped inside and closed the door behind himself, effectively drowning out the sound of the wind.

There was no warmth, which meant that the heating was either off, or cut off.

It wouldn't be the first time their power got shut off.

He slowly unwrapped the thin scarf from around his neck and hung it on the wall next to him, before he gently removed his shoes and tucked them in the corner. The wooden floorboards creaked as he made his way through the hallway.

"Where were you?" A lone voice questioned and the boy stopped.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her sitting in the darkness, expression obscured by her unruly hair, "Out." He carefully replied, as if not to alarm the woman.

"Out?" Her voice cut through the silence, "Where?" There was a soft creak as she stood up and approached him, her long, white dress almost dragging across the floor.

He stood still, not moving a muscle, "At the beach." There was no need to lie to her.

One, sickly, pale hand neared his face and he didn't move away when she cupped his cheek, "The beach?" She tilted her head, her dark tresses sliding to the side, revealing her dull eyes, "You used to love the beach..." She trailed off, a distant look flashing across her ebony irises.

A small smile curled his lips, "I still love it, okaa-san," he leaned into her touch, "It's as beautiful as ever."

The woman let loose a small sigh, "It's a pity you don't visit it anymore... You were the happiest when you did." She continued speaking, as if she hadn't heard his previous words.

The boy's smile turned sombre, "I'm still happy... The sea would be prettier if you visited it with me," he whispered, reaching for her hand, "Let's get you to bed, you must be tired."

She didn't resist as he lightly pulled her forward, "I wish you to be happy." She'd always say something like that to him.

His grip on her wrist tightened ever so slightly, "I am happy." He'd always reply with something like that.

No words were exchanged between them as he led her upstairs. Her room was not as messy as he thought it would be when he came back. The small table was turned over and there were pillow feathers all over the floor. He was careful not to step onto the glass from the broken mirror a few feet in front of them.

He moved the covers and the woman got in with no struggle, "It's time for your pills, okaa-san," he reached towards the bedside table and took hold of a small container, along with a bottled water, "Here, be careful as you swallow it." He uncapped the bottle and took out one of the beige pills.

Her pale hands took hold of everything and did as asked without further ado.

The boy lowered her single, remaining pillow and pulled the covers over her, tucking her in, "Goodnight, okaa-san." He'd gently move her bangs away and press his lips against the exposed skin.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" She whispered, wide eyes unblinkingly staring up at him.

She'd ask the same question each day before the pills would kick in, "Of course I will." His thin fingers would brush through her hair, getting out all the knots and tangles before she fell asleep.

"Can you tell me a story?" Her pale lips pressed onto his hand as she curled closer to him. Her ebony locks spread over the snowy pillow in a harsh contrast.

Gently, as to not bring her any discomfort, he leaned against the headboard and she immediately got even closer, arms curling over his middle, "Of course, okaa-san," and when her breath warmed his skin, his lips parted in return, "There once was a little boy, who had a very happy family. A family of three. A father, a mother and him. The boy loved going to the beach with his father, it was one of the things he enjoyed most. They would splash around in the water, or build sandcastles in the sand. The boy was overjoyed with whatever they did. The littlest of things brought him joy. But then, one day, on a sunny day, the darkness came and the boy was happy no longer. The darkness came, but his father was nowhere to be seen. There was no one to protect him, so the boy got swallowed by the dark."

"What happened to the boy?" His mother's weary voice asked.

He shifted and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to himself, "He became a shadow of his former self, his happiness and joy never to be found again. Only memories remained, memories that haunted him for years to come."

"What of the father?" Her voice had gotten quieter, the pills were kicking in.

The father... "He disappeared, never to be seen again."

"And the mother? What did she do after everything?" Her eyes had already closed shut.

The boy gently pulled away, but the woman didn't seem to realise, "The mother got trapped in her own mind, refusing to believe what had happened, refusing to make peace with the past. She waits, every day, for her son's happiness to return. She waits, every day, for her husband to come back."

Only a light hum left her lips, and then there was silence.

He got off the bed, careful not to make a sound as to not alert her. But, it should be fine. Once the pills kicked in, she would become oblivious to whatever was happening around her.

It brought him a great deal of pain to watch her as she was. Unstable to do anything on her own. Lost in her own mind.

He left the room and closed the door behind himself, before he made his way into the bathroom. Just to check, he flipped the switch of the light and was pleasantly surprised to see that no, their power wasn't shut off. It seemed that his mother forgot to turn the heaters on, then. He shrugged his coat off and let it fall onto the floor. The sink felt cold beneath his fingers as he pressed onto it, unable to get rid of the pressure he felt deep within.

The reflection in the mirror greeted him as if he were an old friend. His lightly coloured irises seemed to be duller than his mother's. Was that the reason she asked if he was happy? Because she saw the dullness of them? His ebony tresses just further accented the sickly paleness of his skin. Unable to look at himself any further, he lowered his head and pressed his forehead against the edge of the sink.

A deep sigh left him, audible in the silence of the bathroom.

And then, he pushed away, the sleeves of his shirt riding up his wrists, revealing a thick wristband.

He was stuck in a perpetual loop each and every day.

Doing the same things each time.

Over and over again.

Some things never change.

~ ¤ || ¤ || ¤ ~

"Memories don't get destroyed. You get destroyed because of them."