Scorched

42

Ezra's arms are the only thing that could hold her up.

She is numb.

He holds her in his arms, her legs are at crooked angles.

She killed him.

She killed Kaleb.

I killed Kaleb.

The words swirls and swirls around in her head, never faltering once. The whispers in her mind were repeating her thoughts just as much, the buzz eating at her ears so much it itched behind her eyeballs like hell.

She killed him.

The wind dried all her tears. She wanted to weep the same way that  this girl was— making a scene balling her eyes out over someone she didn't know. Why the hell was she all over him?

Cleo didn't need to care about that anymore. It was like the wind bled her tears dry. She could not summon any. She feels dead inside. Her features looks like it was chiseled from ice. Dead and gloomy.

When was the last time she felt this empty and cold?

Where are the opiums when she needed it?

She could feel the numbness. Slowly creeping up from below, like vines twining around her legs pulling her deeper into the earth — tightly wrapping around her thighs and then her waist and chest and finally her head.

She feels heavier and heavier, like her body has begun to fail. She can feel the earth drawing her in, she needed to succumb to her death inside a hole with absolutely no way out, after getting in.

Or perhaps she could wither away with the wind and allow the rest of her body to turn to ash and form part of the atmosphere. Suddenly the thought of death didn't scare her. It certainly didn't scare Kaleb. So she could go too. To show her loyalty. To show that this wasn't what she wanted.

He would understand.

They could form a relationship in the afterlife.

Who needed her anyway?

She has nothing to live for.

She's not going to make it.

The whispers could die down too if she left. Cleo would get peace at last.

She takes another look at the blood soaked earth. The girl trying to get the blood back in, sobbing her lungs out in the meantime. There is so much blood.

And it was because of her.

It feels like there is a concrete block inside of her chest, blocking any sort of emotion to enter and exit. She just feels nothing. She could barely feel her own body, her skin feels old, rubbery and dry. Her legs feel like jelly and completely paralyzed, she couldn't initiate any sort of movement. They are just twin pillars of lead. Dead lead.

Lastly her mind. A vast space of nothing. It was like she was just born; knowing nothing. Not being able to differentiate the things before her. Her mind is washed clean. She doesn't know half of what happened.

"Cleo. You're in shock, let's get you out of here."

The trunks around her waist tugs hard. But her leaden legs refuses to move.

She can't leave him.

"Cleo."

The voice seethes this time. Angry and fed up with her.

But she did the next best thing— she uses all her might, willing her numb arms to forcefully push Ezra away from her. It was like moving past a brick wall, but she willed up enough strength to get him away. To which he obliged.