Once Bitten, Twice Shy

20

"Please no! Please!" My own words echoed in my head, my vision blurred and my ears rang. Above it all, the rhythmic clink of a sword being sharpened cut through the noise with every swing and my pleas went unheard. There was nothing to see, only the darkness around me, split by the occasional glint of shining metal from the corner of my eye. I heard the rattle of chains, and the thump of footsteps, and the unsettling groan of an old creaky door. But there was nothing to see. The clangs persisted. Followed by the clatters. The feet thumped on and on and the creaking never stopped. They merged into a cloud of clamour, an up roaring racket that refused to be silenced. Until it all stopped, broken only by a faded cry.

"Mama!" It reverberated off the wall, muffled and warped like the gurgle of a voice underwater. "Mama!" It was clearer, coherent but far as it reached my ears and then dwindled again. "Mama!" I managed to open my eyes, but the darkness didn't pass. In the distance stood a figure. Barely a silhouette, darker only by a few shades than the darkness around us and from it, formed another. "Mama!" The cry rang out for the last time and a child started running. Running towards me as if her life depended on it. Until she stopped. A breeze of cold wind gushed over me and the world started to dissolve, the child turned and ran back to the figure who gathered her up into her arms as fragments of darkness whirled in the wind around me. I heard the word once more, this time a whisper, happy and content before the world around me melted. "mama."

The clangs returned. Followed by the clatters. The feet thumped on and on and the creaking never stopped. They merged into a cloud of clamour, an up roaring racket that refused to be silenced until the whistle of a sword and the glint of metal ended it all.

She jolted forwards before her brain had even woken up. Chest heaving and head spinning, she tried to ground herself by clutching to the sheets for dear life as she gasped oxygen into her lungs and attempted to recover. Beads of sweat stuck to her forehead and her eyes were wide with fear. It had been a while since she'd had a nightmare that traumatic, but with the thoughts running subconsciously in her mind it was inevitable that one would come eventually.

When the world had stopped spinning and the nausea subsided, Anne managed to slip out of bed and make her way to the bathroom, with the intent of flooding the fears away instead. The night was still in full swing and the faint glow from the moon shone through the bathroom window, casting shadows on the walls. Somehow she found that more comforting than the alternative of blinding white light, so she let the water run warm before stepping in and letting herself relax. The steam from the shower condensed on the glass and masked the rest of the room from sight, and she felt her head clear slightly in the mist of the flowing water. The droplets pattered against her skin and the pressure grounded her, for once calming the tension in her chest that she'd been carrying for days, but the haze in her mind still blurred her thoughts and no matter how hard she tried to push them down, they just came rising back up stronger. The dream had proved the doubts that she hadn't wanted to admit, Elizabeth had forgotten her. She had moved on and found a new mother, leaving her behind in the darkness. She didn't want to feel envious of Parr; she wanted to simply hate her guts. But instead her heart wished she could have had that life. The woman had everything. The career, the talent, the looks, the family. Her family, to be more specific. And it was frustrating to not be able to just hate her. That was all she was asking, for all the strings and webs and complications to disappear and for her to just be able to hate. Why did she have to be a good mother? Why did she have to be such a good mother that she occupied the role entirely? Why did she have to be such a good mother and then go and mess it up and ruin everything? And finally... why did she have to be such a good mother that even ruining it made no difference?

The questions piled up and drowned her head. And the constant running stream above her only added to that feeling. The fog inside her mind and the fog in front of her eyes mixed and swirled until it consumed her every thought, and the once calming patters of rainfall became heavy showers of downpour in her ears, filling her head with it's unrelenting noise. She shut it off, relishing the silence when the last drop of water fell. She grabbed her towel from the side and let the fabric engulf her, circling her with warmth and the comforting smell of fresh laundry. She pulled on a giant hoodie and curled up under her covers with her eyes glued to the ceiling. And she tried to order her thoughts.

She didn't want to resent Parr because she looked after her daughter. She wanted to resent her because she did it badly. But apparently she didn't and so Anne didn't know how to be angry anymore. There were plenty of things to be angry about, She felt betrayed, and lied to, and forgotten, And all those feeling were products of Parr's actions, but there was so much to be angry about that everything stacked up until the tower fell and left just a bunch of broken pieces. She was irritable, and confused. And that made her angry. But she didn't know why she was angry because she was so confused. Then the old confusion mixed with the new confusion and that made her irritable because she couldn't think one straight thought without feeling bloody confused. And now she was confusing herself with her own confusion and it was exhausting and endless. But the exhaustion stayed because when she fell asleep her confusion morphed into fear which woke her up. And when she woke up she was angry and tired. And being tired made her irritable.

She'd managed to tire herself out so much that her next conscious activity was waking up, and she had confused herself so much that she could feel the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes as they adjusted to the morning light. With a huff she got up in the search of some tablets before settling back down ten minutes later with a pencil in hand and an empty page. A mind full of messy thoughts proved quite useful when it came to drawing, all she had to do was let her head guide her hand and watch the magic happen. But the one thing she didn't want to have to see was the thing that her head just happened to guide her hand in drawing, and all it did was bring back the irritation for the millionth time. She glared down at the beginnings of a face - one very similar to a drawing earlier on in her book, one that had since been ripped out and thrown in the bin in a ball of crumpled fury - and scolded herself. Come on Anne, this is ridiculous, you hate the woman why are you letting her get inside your head? Ok let's think about something else... Kitty. What does kit like? Kit liked cats. ok cats... Big cats. Lions. Leo. Stars. Parr. No! Okay let's go back. Stars... stars, stars, stars... Shiny! Shiny stars. Light. Dark. Dark is scary. Nightmares. Parr. For god's sake!

This continued on for far too long and she didn't realise the passing of multiple hours. Nor did she realise the rhythmic patter of footsteps headed towards her room.