Morphine

six : these scars

The memory of the few weeks that I'd spent searching and travelling back to my home didn't look like it wanted to exit my mind. I wanted leave that life behind... 

Victorious, I had left hell succesfully. But all was not well yet. Where did my parents live now, I'd asked myself. They could have moved to twenty (and more) different houses in those few years that were robbed from me. I hadn't a clue where I was. Was I even in the same country? 

Luckily, I was. But clearly my luck wasn't enough. I'd walked and walked until my legs and my ruined body could no longer bare the exertion. I had seemed to have arrived at some main road which was deserted. With no warning, my legs gave way and I collapsed. Though, before my concsiousness faded away, a plump woman hurried over to me and said, "Oh dear are you alright?" 

I'd wanted to scream "Are you blind?" but unconcsioucness enveloped me into it's dark home and I gracefully accepted and shut the door behind me. 

Afterwards when I woke up, I'd found myself in a small, but well-furnished house. The window near the sofa I was lying on overlooked the road which I figured was the road where I'd passed out. It didn't look like any place I'd been in before. 

"Ah, you're awake." The woman entered the house with a grocery bag in hand. "I was hoping I didn't have to take you to the hospital. Can't afford it, you know." She gave me a warm smile and placed the grocery bags on the island in the kitchen which was also the living room. 

"Where am I?" I asked sitting back on the sofa. I'd felt insecure. What if this woman was sent by Bansik? "Am I still in England?" 

The woman gave me a confused look. "Well, of course you are. This is Carlisle." 

Carlisle? Where in England was that? My geography had been pathetic back in school. 

The woman kept staring at me probably wondering if she'd done the right thing by taking me in. So I told her My Story which was so depressing and heartbreaking that it had to be spelled with a capitold M and S. 

She told me her name was Cerys and even taught me how to pronounce it (ker-is, she said). As much as I was not interested in what she was saying, I did not interrupt. Eventually, I'd fallen asleep, the fatigue taking over. 

When I'd woken again, Cerys said I'd slept three days straight. She looked at me with pity and I didn't even bother thanking her for feeling sorry for me. Her feeling sorry for me didn't help me in the least bit. Cerys had been extremely generous to me -- she provided me with food and better clothes. Her humanity struck me with an emotion so strong; stronger than the pain. 

"Where do you live, Meira?" She had asked me a couple of days later. 

"Birmingham." I'd answered. "I haven't clue how to get there." It had felt weird to speak again. My voice was oddly husky and sometimes the words on my toungue never made it out of my mouth. Cerys had assured me, with a practised air of nonchalance, that it was just because I hadn't spoken in so long. 

Cerys had slowly been becoming a friend but I was slowly becoming afraid. What if Bansik hunted me down to this place? Being the heartless creature that he was, he'd never let Cerys go (or live) due to the lack of the knowledge of the consequences she could arise. 

"Birmingham is just three hours away from here." She'd replied. Then hesitantly added, "You can stay here as long as you'd like dear." Her accent was different. Was that how I spoke? Bansik had a very different accent -- his every word was clear and clipped. 

She'd never offered to take me back home herself and I was glad. She probably didn't have a vehicle. I'd felt guilty by just sitting in her house and eating her food. 

The next day Cerys had packed me some food and sent me off to Birmingham on a bus. I thanked her for her generosity and promised myself that if I made it back home I would ask my father to help her out financially. 

****

After a whole day of discussion, it was finally decided that I would stay at home for a month and then continue with my education. Everyone wanted me around; Milan came home from school early, Mum never left the house, and Dad always seemed to be around. I couldn't be happier. 

A couple of days later, when I was beginning to settle in, Milan and I lounged in the living room watching movies that I'd missed. My head rested on his shoulder and his arm was around me protectively. When the movie was beginning to get a little boring, Milan began speaking. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked. His deep voice would take a lot getting used to. It felt like I was talking to someone else. 

I thought about his question. Did I? For some scary, unknown reason I did not even feel uncomfortable while recounting everything that had happened to me to Cerys. I could talk to Milan. He was here. He was my brother. Why wouldn't I? 

But I also thought about what sort of effect it would have on him. He would either get very angry or very sad. I didn't want him to feel either. I shook my head. He would assume that I wasn't ready. 

Milan nodded. After the movie ended, he stood up and said, "Do you want a sandwich?" I nodded. 

I stared at Milan as he walked to the kitchen. Tall and slim but strong. Dark hair that reached till below his neck which he had slicked back. His jaw was the most prominent feature. It made him look old, but young in a way. 

The urge to look at myself was so powerful, I found myself in Milan's bathroom a few minutes later. Except for a few features, like my nose and chin and ears, we looked almost similar. 

Everything brought the old memories back. A door, how I was locked behind one left to rot away, high heels and pretty dresses, how I never got to wear any of them when I was old enough. I knew I was living in the past and cribbing internally about everything. I had no one to blame except Bansik. I had no power, no knowledge of why or what. Complaining was what I was doing. But I knew I had every right to. 

"If you were here during high school, I would have had the tough job of keeping bastards away from you," I heard Milan chuckling behind me. "You're way too pretty." 

If you were here during high school. That did it. 

Everything popped inside of me and it all came flowing out silently. The tears rolled down slowly as I stared into Milan's eyes in the mirror. He was at my side in a second, assuring me that I was safe, telling me he was sorry for bringing that up. 

I started becoming hysterical and dropped down to the floor, clutching my gut, trying to keep the pieces together. He kneeled beside me and pulled me onto his lap. "It's okay." He kept repeating. "I'm here." Milan's strong hands pushed my hair aside, making their way around me and pulling me close. 

Milan knew what to do. He kept whispering something about how I was safe. I couldn't hear a thing. My sobs drowned everything out. 

If I could have just faded away. If I could have just died there, I would never have had to experience all this soul-break.

Mum went crazy when she entered the bathroom. She rushed over to us and we embraced as she cried along with me. Milan held me till my throat hurt. 

If this phase would just get over already I could start living, I could start being a normal human. But I would never be a normal human; these scars were too many to ignore. 

___________________________________________________________

I know. This is the worst delay in a update. I'm a bad person. 

Anyway, this is a filler chapter. Hope you guys liked it. 

You know, I have no way of knowing if anybody is actually reading this and feeling something. Please comment. I don't care if you hate my story and think my writing is pathetic. I would still like to know because at least you're feeling something. The future chapters, I promise, will be more fast-pacing. 

Milan to your right yo. Because Alex Watson is too sexy to bear. 

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Keep warm  

~Nymisha