Blinded // Discontinued

twenty four - numb

It had been nearly three days since I had gotten up from bed. My bladder was at the brink of its breaking point, trembling with the stress of holding in everything for days. I knew that if I didn't get up now, I'd eventually make a mess of myself.

I liked to sleep because I pretended that I was dead. As morbid as it sounded, it was the only thing keeping me from thinking of the thoughts that would drag me under. Waking up made it easier to remember, and harder to forget, that I was losing control of my life.

People came to visit me, but I wasn't interested in their sympathies or small talk. I tried to force smiles multiple times, but they said it wasn't me. I tried to make jokes, but they said they weren't funny. Then I asked the woman who brought me meals every day to tell the front desk to discontinue allowing visitors. She agreed.

It was nice here. The bed was copiously made with an abundance of pillows that surrounded my body. It made the desire to stand and walk to the washroom vanish, but not the urgency. I pushed past the pillows and stood on the cool, wooden floor.

My feet glided across the waxed ground languidly. The washroom was only a few steps away from the room, and all obstacles that could potentially harm had been moved by Anna, during her first and last visit. I was told that she desperately wanted to see me, but I ignored the intercom from the front desk.

I turned the knob and stepped into the room with chilled tiles. I quickly did my business and then stood in front of the sink. After washing my hands, I stayed planted on that spot.

I exhaled deeply and shut my eyes, hoping that when I opened them I could see something. I wished to see so much, I wished that when I opened my eyes one day, that I would be able to see the world again. Ever since I had been here, I had begun to associate physical vision with mental vision.

I reached out to touch the mirror - to touch myself. When my fingertips came into contact with its frosty surface, I let my hands drop, knocking over the bottle of soap in the process. My body grew anxious, fearfully dreading itself.

I stood in front of the mirror silently. I didn't make any sounds, but my eyes were screaming aloud, screaming to finally be opened once more. I found breathing difficult, and struggled to hold myself back from thrusting my head through the glass.

It all felt like the moment when nearly missing a step while walking down stairs, or the moment when the chair nearly tips backwards, the moment when sitting at the highest peak of the mountain and a strong wind blows, nearly pushing you off and into a painful death. It was the feeling of nearly going over the edge - being at the brink of something safe and lethal all at once. It was all anxiety, and it was all I felt.

The anxiety was intoxicating and made my heart best faster. I thought of the dream, how it played a part in everything happening now. This was the dream that left me in an unconscious state through the fire that destroyed half of the apartment building I lived in, including the whole of my apartment.

I clenched my fists and exhaled slowly. I stood, with feet firmly placed on the ground, hoping I could forget him, and the dream that added weight onto my already heavy shoulders.

The dream left me confused. I did not feel dependent on Liam, much less submissive to him. All I had begun to feel was anger, for him coming into my life and giving my mind a chance to create a story of us. If he hadn't fallen into my existence, then maybe it would have been easier to save my safe haven.

I slammed my fist into the mirror, wincing at the pain that followed the collision. I felt small shards stick into the skin of my knuckles. I made soft noises when I felt a trickle of blood trail down my hand. I shook my head, scolding myself for doing something so stupid.