Caim

- Chapter 33 -

Aurelia

I sit on the floor of some random room in Silas house, music blasting in my ears as I paint. I haven't painted since the day me and Silas went on.

I had to do it, I've had some sort of feeling build up ever since this afternoon. I sweating although I'm in a shorts bra and shorts. My stomach is turning. My heart is beating overly fast for no apparent reason.

I've got this overwhelming feeling to move but I keep myself planted on the floor, i keep painting. I don't know what I'm doing, everything is mixing together and my ideas have flown away.

The music isn't calming me down. I sit alone in this empty room, frantically trying to figure out how to save this painting. It's ugly, it's messy, it's giving me anxiety because I don't know what I'm doing.

Tears run down my face as the anger rises. My breath quickens. I throw the brush, my fists smashing onto the canvas. I smack the cups away, I pour the paint onto the canvas.

My fingers dig into the paint, moving it around. I'm trying to salvage this disgusting mess of a painting. What I'm left with is a thing, I don't really know what it is. It's trapped clouds, no something less real then that are seizing it.

I stare trying to figure out what I've created. I realize that the thing is a person. It's clawing at whatever is trapping it. The thing doesn't care. It's tightening its grip. It's moving in, closer and closer and it's not resisting.

I sit here on this cold wood floor, paint on my hands, my knees red from my harsh movements. This ugly color stains me, reflecting the feeling I'm experiencing. My dad. He's no one.

He's not the reason I feel this way. I am. I'm stupid. I let every thought of mine linger for longer than necessary. Every moment of my life sits in the form of my brain, swirling and mixing until the weight of it all drops to my chest.

It stays and grows digging into me until I feel it all at once. Sadness, anger, dread. One thing happens and I'm sent spiraling. Crying in the shower. Having a panic attack in my bed. Destroying everything in sight out of rage.

I don't know why I'm like this. I don't know why I can't forget. This is not my day, this is not something I need to have on my mind right now, but it is: it's consuming. It's not just one thing, it's everything.

Why does my dad hate me? Why does my mom choose a substance over her kids? Why'd I scar myself? Why'd I say that? Why'd I do that? I am I like this? Why does this happen to me? Am I crazy?.

The questions run like a train in circles through my mind. The statements. I hate my mom. I hate my dad. I hate people. I hate my body. I hate my broken mind. I hate myself.

I sit in a circle holding my head up with my hands as the tears drip onto my bare thighs. I tried to get over it and I can't. I left my dad, ghosted my mom. I wore makeup, I picked clothes I like, I pushed the thoughts away.

It doesn't work. You can ignore yourself, you'll always come back around. No matter how far you run, how much you laugh, how much good you experience it will be waiting for you ready to attack when you're venerable.

I tried to run away. I tried to kill myself, twice. It won't make a difference. I'll be happy, maybe. I don't know. Camilla wouldn't be. Kimmy wouldn't be. Maybe my dad would be though, my mom.