six months later
i stare blankly at the book in front of me,
the pages bare,
a pen in my right handwrite down you thoughts
write about how your day went
just write whatever comes to your mind
my therapist saidaccording to him it was some sort of way to keep track of my progress
i don't think ive made any
all ive written about is sadness and death and stacy
s t a c y
i look out the ceiling to floor window past the institution's lavish lawn
as if she might show up,
pretend she's only visiting me
and then we'd plot out my escapeno one's there
none of that happensshe's not real
manic depressionparanoid schizophrenia
that's my therapist's diagnosis
for seeing things that aren't there
for making up a dead person
and giving her an entirely different personality"your brain came up with an entirely different solution to block out the trauma and stress you've been dealing with"
bullshithow dare he speak of her like that?
this place is lonely, desolate
there's this nagging feeling that bounces off the walls
magnified, reaches you
leaves you hopelessquite ironic
you're sent here for recovery
and the only thing the place makes you feel is that youre beyond saving
more than you felt beforethe staff's too nice
like their kindness is somehow forced for a place like thisdays here are spent in routine
there's group therapy in the morning with a bunch of other mentally ill kidsthey could almost pass as normal almost
calum and ashton visit every Sunday
michael does twice each month
they're all in college nowdad calls at times
i think he's scared of me to actually pay a visit
(there's a strain in his voice)
that,
or he just doesn't want to add this,me to his griefi have to take three pills each day
they're supposed to make me feel better,
theyre supposed to fix me
i don't think pills and therapy can sew the stitches of a soul torn and ripped aparti think i made it pass the point of no return
//
there she is
standing in the middle of the road
with that smile of hers
i hear the engine of a car rushing by
i call out her name and she looks at me
and i jump in front of the gunning machine to save herthe impact causing us to tumble a little farther
i blink my eyes open
she's still there in my armsshe looks up, looking more ethereal than she did before
i grin holding her tighter
"stacy"
"luke"
i shower her with kisses
"baby i'm free"
i feel her peck my cheek
and then she's gone
like she was never there beforei shot up
moonlight bleeding through the open window,
illuminating the shadows in the room
i steadied my breathingthe dream felt so real
she was in it
she was happyi smiled to myself,
the tears coming inand i felt the urge to say her name, stacy
say it again and again stacy stacy stacy stacy stacy stacy
in that moment, nothing else mattered
because i saw her again
and now i know that she's out there
she's okay
this isn't over yet I'll be posting a playlist and it's Sunday ohmy HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICHAEL!!!!!!!!!!
YOU ARE READING
oneirataxia || lrh au
Fanfictionshe looked up at the sky and she was a world away; he looked at her and all his demons were at bay ©piercetheveillrh 2016