The Weight of emptiness - dancing with the Mystery

Blue Ocean

We never know when natural disasters are about to happen.

Some people are very sensitive about climate variation. They feel the skin hairs bristle, the inevitable taste of death present in the atmosphere invade the palate, and hear the noise similar to that of a train on the way. They look up, notice the birds flying and act wisely, hiding.

Nevertheless, not me, who lived in chaos, and from continuously confusing distant memories with what experts called "night terrors", I completely lost track of what was real. It was just going into a shutdown of the mind, and my unconscious brought back memories of when I danced in that wicked environment that my body refused to forget.

I woke up at dawn, completely filthy. Sometimes I would get up on my feet spontaneously and run my hands all over my body. I confused sweat with blood and only saw the red, like a protective layer on my skin. Dripping, sticky. I screamed, terrified. I ran to the shower and swore to see it run with the water coming down the drain.

All I could make out was that now the tile was ceramic, not Italian marble. The shower that depredated my body was not scorching hot. Moreover, now, at all times, I was alone, not washing his body.

So naked without the jewels. Without the glow, everything was black and white.

I would come crawling back to bed and curl up in rough sheets. I closed my eyes, wishful for the nightmares, eager for the darkness to lull my brain into a black waltz until it messed up all the memories.

The next day, I'd blame myself twice as much for not appreciating my light wrists. What was my fault if the invisible chains weighed a ton? It was impossible to move. I turned around in bed and slept more. The handcuffs left me, yet I couldn't forget the cursed carats, tingling, icy, against my skin.

It was impossible to get rid of the weight.

All I could do was dream about gold, so I had a hard time waking up. In the middle of the afternoon, money invited me to a dance. For a moment, I was happy. I was worth a lot one day, and it was nice to be recognized, prestigious and appreciated.

Something inside me sounded like a shrill and desperate alarm. However, I could not assimilate whether it was real or fear of facing Gerard again. Fear of what he would say, of what he might know. "She's like us," his voice reverberated. Who could stop Duncan from slitting my throat with his tongue?

The cold in the belly has settled. I felt the anxiety crisis become more palpable by the second, and the devoured cereal box, and the bastard was still there, chilling my spine like larimar stones and whispering old songs in my head:

"You need to take care of yourself, goddess. I'm not young like you, I won't be here forever."

I ate watching the 'rerun' of an awards show that took place the night before in Los Angeles. In the interval, while looking for the slippers under the bed, kneeling and with the toothbrush in my mouth, a velvety voice confused who I was:

"Now, we will listen to the sponsor of this event. With you, Cartier Kühn."

"On behalf of Kühn Industries, I would like to reiterate the immense pleasure that it is for my family to invest in music and all its forms of express..."

I turned off the TV, completely shaky to the point of my body weakening.

"Disgusting bishops."

On the way, I don't know how I wasn't involved in an accident. I felt completely dizzy, sorry for giving in to my desires and sleeping so much. Or watching TV. It always baffled me watching TV.

As soon as I parked the car beside the fountain, I leaned my head on the steering wheel and closed my eyes, willing to convince my subconscious.

"Give me a break," I asked. "If I don't work, we won't have any food. Without energy, we'll pass out. If I end up at a hospital, they'll come for me, and then the weight will not only be a mark on the soul," I explained. "Please make it easy, Aleks. Just an hour and we'll have enough money to sleep for the rest of the month."