Morphine (Complete)

𝟑𝟖

(a/n: when my doctor said clinical levels of anxiety, apparently he wasn't joking. Anyways, enjoy the update <3)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The world was a desolate, empty, and slow place. The skylights were dull, the streets dreary, and all rainfall deadened to a slow, beating drum. It wasn't numb, for to be numb was to feel nothing at all--and to be numb at that moment might have been a blessing.

To what fault could a family carry the burden of their ancestors?

Rannia puzzled over this, quite drearily, with rain lancing onto her face. It spattered off her lips, her cheeks, her nose, but she made no movement to wipe any of it off. She walked, arms at her sides, heavy bag slung over her back, along the streets. People passed her, and to her delirious state, they seemed ghosts in passing. 

Her eyes may have been wide as she stared at them, or perhaps lowered and shallow. She couldn't care less, and even if she had, she was far too gone in her mind to tell how she appeared to the outside.

At what breaking point did insanity start?

She sniffled quietly, keeping her runny nose from dripping in the cold.

Why did rain bring with it cold?

She too thought over this. Perhaps she was being dramatic. Maybe she should stop the clown show and move on; focus on the mission she'd set out so clearly for herself, and ignore all around her until that painful screeching in the back of her mind ceased its chatter.

If they were all dead, that screeching would stop. If they were all dead, her heart would no more be weeping at the sight of them. If they were all dead, her dad would be okay, and she could return to how things were before.

Isolated. Isolated but safe.

It had broken her, what her mother had told her before she left. Rannia knew he wasn't well. It didn't take a doctor to look at the decrepit old man who was once her father and see he hadn't much of his life left. And as life slowly faded from his crippled body, it was clear to see his shattered mind was chipping away as well. Falling in pieces at his feet in the cold, empty room, alone, with no one to pick them up for him again.

If Rannia completed his last wish, maybe he would return to how he was before. He wouldn't be so obsessed over the Amirs. He would be her dad again.

But to what weight could the Amirs bear the repercussions of one man alone?

For her, family was whole: if one suffered, the rest suffered. If one rejoiced, the others followed suit.

If that was the case, why did Mykel not care that he was fucking his brother's girlfriend? Why would Carter distance himself from his family just to avoid the work that came with it?

If family was so important, why did Rannia's feelings towards the Amirs make her hesitate in her loyalty to her own flesh and blood?

Gritting her teeth, Rannia tore through the rest of the rain. She went from a slow walk to a jog, to a full-out sprint in the streets. Water whipped past her fast, flinging along her smooth skin as spray lashed up from her shoes. The numbness to her body slowly cracked like glass, splitting and falling apart in a glorious arrangement of deadly spikes.

She could feel it. The burning of her legs as she ran and ran. The rapid compressions of her lungs as they worked to keep up with her fast pace. And the crushing, gut-wrenching twisting of her chest.

All she wanted was her dad back.

Rannia didn't know how many minutes had passed until she reached the Amir's office. The stout building had wettened sides; concrete turned a stormy grey, and windows tinted.