Ya'aburnee

Chapter 3: The Demon's low Blow

CIA

Nothing has changed since the last time I was here. 

The same rumpled bedsheets, the same coldness, the same pillow on the bed that caught all my tears.

I walk around, the wooden floor still creaking with every step I take. The three traces of my fingers I left on the table as I ran my fingers over the surface are now slightly dusted and, in a few days, will be gone.

I hate bathrooms. And I feel special hatred for the one in this hut thus when I stand before the curtain that replaces a door, I don't take a step further. I don't pull the curtain to the side.

I walk away.

I do not want to see the shower in which I jumped in with all my clothes on and prayed for the ice-cold water to put out the lethal fire that my body embodied.
My chest was on fire, flesh burning and skin tearing to shreds. I was about to go up in flames.
I also don't want to see the mirror that I broke in with my fist.
Reflections have the kind of power that changes directions. And in most cases, you are not directed to the path of light.

The lamp hanging from the ceiling rocks back and forth, no flickering light radiating from its bulb, no light source in the room at all. I press the switch, the hut faintly illuminated in a few seconds and there are grey but harmless shadows cast on the walls. Mine is in between them, a darker shade of grey than the rest, a solid outline of a human body. Changing as I move but never disappearing.

Every minute and every hour that I spent in this hut will haunt me for a long time to come. In that absolute nocturnal silence of the night with only the sound of rain dripping down the window and clouds colliding, my thoughts were always the loudest.

I thought sleep was going to be my quiet place but I was chased and haunted there too.

Death didn't let me have my peace anywhere.

I cried myself to sleep every night.
I wanted to kill my mind.
I still do but it's no longer for the same reasons. There's something empowering about coming back here, seeing how a few days ago I thought I was done with my life and now, I am back with a mindset some people would kill for.

It gives me power knowing that I reached the bottom but rose back up.

There was not a single night in which the moon did not shine and was not the only light spot in the endless ebony. Whenever I fell asleep, it was the last sight my eyes beheld.
I was always tucked in on the bed, never once shedding off the blanket the mysterious someone had left me.
Never once.

I held onto it as if it were my last lifeline.

It certainly didn't hurt that it smelled incredible too. The kind of scent that makes your mind run free in a worriless place, a place you'd gladly switch with reality.

How I hadn't noticed the smell before - another mystery to me.
It was captivating, fresh, woodsy.
Maybe my senses were playing games on me but you could not have convinced me that it was a scent that women wore.

But this was something that I didn't waste many thoughts about.

What intrigued me and tore my heart open was the fact that there was someone out there who cared enough to leave the right words and something to keep me from freezing in the storm.

Neither mother nor Neirin were the sender of this message, I knew their handwriting by heart and this didn't come remotely close to any of them.

One day I'll pay them back.
One day I'll show my utmost gratitude.

The first two days and nights I spent in the hut, I was left alone. My mother knew me too well to know what an absolute terrible idea it'd be to pay me a visit.
I needed my space and I appreciated that she was understanding enough to actually give me it. But mother was still a mother after all and two days was all she could go before she had to check up on her child.

The third day there was a knock on the door, too early in the morning, and a box dropped off in front of the hut. Initially, I thought it was another gift from the mysterious someone but after opening it up, I knew this could not be the case.

There were just a few things in the box, a copy of the book Pride and Prejudice, drinks, some food and on the bottom of the box a prayer rug.

I stared cluelessly at it for a bit too long as if a bolt of lightning had struck me.

And then I fell to my knees.

My mouth trembled and tears hung onto my lashes before spilling one by one.

I clutched that prayer rug to my chest, burying my face into the material. Silencing my cries that only got louder when I felt that my heart was not complete.
But in pieces.

It could never be complete when it's missing its glue. Prayer.
My heart has had a lot of cracks but all of them were always sewn back together.
Prayer did that for me.
And I had let it go.

I dropped and abandoned the glue that always repaired my heart.
And the worst thing of all was that I didn't even believe I was worthy of that glue anymore.

My soul ached to taste the peace of the moments in prayer.
And I ached to satisfy that desire.

Third day evening, mother showed up. I was sitting on the window bench, staring out at the storm that was still giving no rest. Watched droplets of rain race down the window - the one I was rooting for didn't reach the frame first. I was lost in my thoughts but mother's voice tore me out of that place and into reality.

It was the first time that I was broken but didn't seek comfort in mother's arms.

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helloo:)

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I just wanted to add that the first few chapters that narrate the backstory and have those flashbacks are mainly in the female mc's POV but after that there are other character's POVs too! 

They're all about to be introduced! 
Don't worry:)

have a nice day/evening!

adiós ღღ