Shackles & Roses

Ten

Pounding head. Thoughts whirring. Aching heart. Broken.

All of my thoughts blur into one, and I'm staring at the ceiling again. Recently, the ceiling has been my best friend. We spend so much of our time together, and it sees all of my secrets. Every last one. And I know its every inch by heart.

My eyes traverse the familiar surface, greeting the sight of it like you'd greet an old friend. It's a welcome sight after today.

I enjoyed being outside, despite how it ended. I don't spend enough time out there anymore, especially for someone so interested in nature. But then, it's difficult to focus on the things around you when you're having a meltdown. With all the noise I made all the creatures at the park have probably gone into hiding for a year.

What I don't understand is how no one around me heard. Surely they must have? If they heard, then that means they decided to just carry on walking and leave me in the depths of my dream. I don't know which thought is worse: that strangers might have seen me in that state and ignored me, or that they saw me and were the very thing that rescued me from it. Both make me want to crawl into a hole somewhere and never reappear. Although in a way, that's what I've been doing for the past six months. This was one of my first incursions with the outside world and it was a disaster. Just like last time.

I stare down at my nails, the colour still staining them making me feel sick. It's chipped at the edges, and my nails are caked in dirt, but the red is still bright. Why did I ever think putting the varnish on was a good plan? It makes me want to rip my nails off of my hands.

Thinking of nails makes the marks along my palms hurt, and I press tentative fingertips to them, wincing as they make contact with the tender skin. My nails aren't even that long. Most of that is the force with which I pressed. Panic attacks do strange things to your mind and body.

I still ache all over, and I have so many pent-up emotions, but I'm unable to shed another tear. I am full to the brim with feelings, but everything feels drained of life. There's no colour in anything anymore. Except my nails. I can see the red looming in my vision, and it sends me spiralling every single time I catch a glimpse. Get it off, Alex. Get it off. I don't have any means to remove it, though.

Part of me feels like I can't remove it. I can't get rid of it. It was one of the first things I did during this good spell, and it's a reminder of that. But it's also a reminder of her. It feels like she's slipping through my fingers, no matter how hard I try to hold on. Her ashes are all over my bedroom floor, scattered. And she's gone. She's gone.

She's gone, Alex.

I'm second-guessing everything. Because is she really gone? She feels so real in my head. Because she was. She is. Those black flecks on the floor are her. Burned and scarred and broken, but they're her. What remains of her.

Sometimes it all just feels like it was too perfect. Our relationship was too perfect. Her parents and sisters were too perfect. I was too perfect around her. Maybe this has been me all along- some broken man creating a figure in his mind to focus on to help dull the pain. I'd love to learn that strategy again.

I need to ground myself. Ground my emotions. I could ask anyone who knows me about her. But maybe they're all in on it. Maybe they've agreed it hurts me more to tell me it wasn't real, so they kid me. All of them. They are all liars. Every last one of them. My mum. My dad. My brothers. My friends. Their families.

Addie. His new girl. He has a new girl. Why didn't he tell me that? It seemed perfectly reasonable that he said nothing when I first found out, but now I can't do anything but hate him for it. Why wouldn't he tell me? I'm sick of people keeping stuff from me just because they want to protect me. If they wanted to protect me, they should have done it six months ago, and they should have prevented all of this from happening. Them trying to do it now just hurts more.

And suddenly I hate all of them. Each and every one of them. It's not their fault, Alex. Their attempts are so patronising and their smiles are so fake. But so is your own, Alex. I want this pain in my chest to go away.

I clutch my hands hard against my chest, trying to dull away the ache there with a little pressure. It won't work, Alex. Everything feels strange. Like I'm on a rollercoaster in slow motion, going nowhere. Open your mouth to scream but you're underwater, and it rushes into your mouth and lungs to choke you, choking- on nothing. Thin air. There's nothing there, Alex.

Her voice, in my head. Her face, in front of me. Just her. In the room with me. In my mind. Everywhere and nowhere all at once. This is what it feels like to go crazy, Alex. I feel her next to me on the bed, arms wrapping around my torso and clutching me close. I turn to cradle her. And she's gone again. You're crazy, Alex.

And then she's behind me. Sat with her hands resting on my head, fingers fiddling with my hair. I let her soothe me, eyes closed. She speaks, and I open them to see her beautiful face again but- I find myself looking at nothing. Crazy.

I'm crazy.

That voice in my head. It won't stop prying, and poking, unearthing my darkest secrets and taunting me with them. It gives nothing away that it knows them. But it knows. It knows what I've done. How I left her. How I left her alone when she- I take a shaky breath, eyes desperately trying to fill with tears, but to no avail. There's nothing left in me to cry with. I'm an empty shell of a human.

Empty, Alex. You're empty. I am empty. Emotions at a bottleneck but I turn to look at them and they're gone. Just like when I see her. Empty, Alex. All gone. Empty human. Is it possible to be empty and alive at the same time? It's like a never-ending nothingness. Surely nothingness is something? Nothing. You are nothing. I am something. I am... I do not know what I am. You are nothing, Alex. It's prying into me, pushing. That's a part of me, right? That voice? That's something. I am something. No, Alex. Nothing. Nothing. I am nothing. Nothing but her. She is a part of you.

It mentioned her. I shift on the bed, eyes wide and aching but I refuse to shut them. I won't sleep. But I am so tired. It weighs down my limbs. I am a deadweight. They're all liars. They are. They're liars. But I don't have proof. It doesn't matter. They lied. Trust no one. No one is trustworthy. Least of all myself.

Except- maybe there is someone I could ask. About her. About us. Someone who can set my mind at ease. Prove her existence. Or lack thereof. Someone or some people. The Bennahs. It's been a while, so I don't even know if they'll have me. But they've got to.

Not in this state, though. I need to shut off the voice inside of me. No. Yes. That's not me. I am me. I am Alex Lidden. Bailey Bennah was my girlfriend. I need to ground myself. Something more than her ashes can. I need to visit her family.