Anger. Guilt. Vengeance.
Those are the only emotions I have felt all these years.
Everyday is a battle to keep myself from losing a piece of me...what's left of me, anyway.
One moment, eleven years ago, is all it took.
They should have killed me w...
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I stare up at the ceiling, eyes unblinking and my breathing far from normal. Sweat beads on my forehead, but I don't have it in me to wipe it away. Time seems to move exceptionally slow when my thoughts are consuming my mind like wildfire.
Their scorching intensity makes me wonder if being devoured by real fire would be less painful.
It's tough to answer that.
The dense and frightful feeling settles in my chest as darkness consumes the bottomless pit of hell I am in.
Black leather gloves invade my vision. Smell of burning flesh enters my nostrils, filling up my throat and emptying my lungs, before I feel the searing hot pain, my screams deafening me and then...nothing.
My nightmares feel like they're playing on repeat. Well, they aren't exactly nightmares, more like memories which refuse to stay locked up.
I catch sunlight peeking through the small space between the thick black curtains. It takes everything to just push the covers away and get out of bed. I scrunch up my nose when I feel my clothes sticking to my body. The cold floor against my bare feet feels somewhat comforting as I strip off my pajamas and walk inside the bathroom.
I step inside the shower cubicle, closing my eyes when the cold spray of water hits me in the face and goosebumps erupt on my skin. My fingertips ghost over my upper arms and chest, the same places where my scars used to be before they faded away with time and medical assistance.
My back, however, is a different story.
I don't stop to look at the scars running down my entire back in the foggy mirror, like I usually would. It hurts to look, but I savour that pain. It works as a reminder that my efforts are not going in vain and it's only a matter of time before I accomplish what I have been living for.
Not today. It hurts a little more than other times.
On days like these, I want nothing more than to stay holed up in my room. Somewhere I can feel safe and out of their reach. Sadly, that's not an option either.
Instead, I tie up my shoelaces and quietly walk out of my penthouse apartment so I don't wake up Alexia. We stayed up pretty late last night, watching cheesy rom-coms and eating our weight in junk food.
We need that kind of normalcy in our life once in a while to avoid making a mess of things in our head.
It's more for Alexia's sake than mine. She isn't immune to things like I am and I do anything I can to make sure it stays that way.
The elevator dings and I break out into a slow jog, the September chill hitting me all at once, along with the smell of Fall. The dried leaves on the sidewalk crunch under my shoes and I pick up pace.
Jogging around my block helps to some extent when the nights aren't too kind to me. It's not completely effective but it's still something I can depend on without having to worry about being let down.
