Stagnant

Repress

And I was completely hypnotised.

I wasn't annoyed or angry or any of those other emotions he had pointed out that I was feeling on this trip. I was in a daze, listening to his deep voice rattle on about the sport that normally only caused hurt within me because of its relation to Elliot.

It didn't hurt hearing him talk about it.

After a meal that was payed for by Jackson (he insisted because I paid for the museum) we found ourselves back in the small hotel we booked to get ready for the rugby game.

Like all the previous games, Jackson left a jersey for me with whichever city's rugby logo it was. I had kept them all, stuffing them in my bag and never wearing them because the thought of wearing it made my stomach turn violently and the urge to light the thing on fire appeared. But as I looked down at the Harlequins colour block rugby jersey, a heart string tugged, my brain telling me to put the polyester top on over the top. It was the devil and the angel on either shoulder. The angel telling me to put it on, to see the look on Jackson's face when he saw me wearing it but the devil had different ideas. The devil told me to rip it in to little pieces.

A dull ache starts in my heart, the pain that was usually like a flaming fire poker being embedded in to my chest, was now more like a butter knife stabbing me. It still hurt, it still made me want to rub my chest as the torture spread through my body, engulfing me in the flames until it consumed me, until I was the flame.

But I could breathe. There was no towering and engulfing flame. It was a candle light. The air was cleaner and clearer. I wasn't drowning and the world wasn't dead.

I was in pain but I could breathe.

Exhaling, I drop the second long sleeved top I was about to put on before my eyes caught sight of the jersey and instead tug on the Harlequins top, inhaling the new clothes smell.

"You're... wearing it?" His voice startles me.

Glancing up, I nod at his shocked face and stare at the matching jersey he has on. He filled his a lot more than I filled mine. "Yea."

The jersey falls to the tops of my thighs and I play with the ends of it while being stared at like a zoo animal.

He shakes his head, mumbling underneath his breath before he smiles his usual dazzling smile. "You look great. Let's go."

I had gained weight in the last two weeks, thanks to Jackson and his encouraging. I didn't resemble a stick figure as much anymore, I was healthier. My grey skin was gone and my skin held colour, showing off some of the blood underneath the surface.

I was healthy.

The first twenty minutes or so of the game went quickly with me reading another book, until an uproar disrupted the bubble of tranquility that surrounded me. The crowd was antsy and shouting, louder than I had ever heard at a rugby game before.

The shouting and swearing and anger popped my usual peaceful bubble that separated me from the rest of the world. The crowd reminded me of the sport, of the feelings and of the pain. It brought me back to reality, it made all the memories filter through, all the pain filtered through.

Elliot.

My heart thunders, pounding against my chest. Blood rushing past my ears like a gushing river and it was at that moment I realised I was shaking, trembling uncontrollably.

Elliot.

The jersey was heavier. It wasn't a jersey anymore; the jersey was a stray jacket made of lead. It was weighing me down. It was restricting me from movement. I couldn't breathe.