For Emma, Forever Ago

The Wolves (Act I and II)

The hurt is blinding, sparks of lightning ricocheting off her skin, prickling through the humming, buzzing, air. 

She doesn't know what hurts more, the thundering cackling laughter tumbling its way out her mouth or the beat- beat- beat- of her heart that pounds so strongly against her chest. 

It's gone. 

Everything's gone.

There's nothing left. 

It's lost once more. 

And so she laughs; an agonizing cry so foreign to her own ears that it pierces through the air as howls of sorrow that rips it way past her throat.

She wants to flee. To crawl out of the universe until there was nothing but everything she's ever wished for. To shed her skin and have the wind carry her soul, wisping past the clouds and soaring through the sky only stopping to find something that won't leave her. 

Alone. 

Again. 

She would spend her entire life chasing what lies behind the sunrise, sick of the lies fed to her over and over and over again by the stars whenever they wink at her in the night telling her that things are going to be okay. 

She wants something that wouldn't leave. 

Something that wouldn't abandon her. 

That wouldn't burn. 

Wouldn't hurt. 

And that want, that desperately craving aching want, is what keeps her going. 

Despite all of the pain, she still has hope that the mists will unveil and the fogs will clear. She still has hope that there is solace to be found.

Legs wobbling, arms shaking, teeth clattering, she picks herself up. 

She is alone. 

She is lost. 

But one day, one day, she will find what it is she's seeking. 

Even if the whole world was plotting against her.

Even if she loses again. 

One day, she's going to be free of the pain

One day. 

Someday.