"something second hand and broken" - second-hand white baby grand, smash
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Sometimes there's an ocean, others, there's a desert. A skyline, a planet, a forest. Wherever she is, she is floating, and she is alone. Once, she was on a raft paddling through knee-deep water in the grand canyon. Floating on water, no soul to be found. Even walking around at school, there was a degree of separation. To an extent, it felt nice. She was different and she knew it. Was this difference good? Well, that was for her to decide. My opinion? I don't have one. I'm just ... here. I don't control her or her thoughts. Sure, I can override emotional responses, and keep her demons at bay, but like the Emergency Ordinance in Hong Kong, it's only used for state emergencies. Anaïs is my state, and I am her governance.
When she is alone, it's easier for the monsters to pounce. They circle us every moment of every day, growing with every uncontrolled reaction, every stray thought, every slipped word. Needless to say, they are massive. Between you and me, I fear it impossible to break their permanent grasp on her. Maybe, in the far future, with love and healing and growth, she'll move on, but she's not ready yet. It's too dark in here, and the lanterns aren't working. For now, the horrors stay.
Occasionally, she will rise from her stupor with a caress from a celestial being, alleviating her sorrows with temporary tranquillity. In those times, I can rest, knowing that, for now, she is safe. She can't be harangued by Guilt, torn apart by Sorrow, surmounted by Anguish, defeated by Death. It's a battle that may change at any point. The winner is unclear, but both parties lose so much, to the point where forfeit seems to be the only option. But what does forfeiting do? What does it achieve? Will Anaïs be better for it? Will she overcome? I. Don't. Know.
I hate it, that even though I must look after her, protect her at every turn, she still fears what lies ahead, because of what lay behind. She may have passed over, but she will never not be scarred from it. Look, outside. A tornado whirls in the distance. Do you see that speck of red? That's her. Not physically, she's Australian, and the worst things out there are the abundance of crawling insects. But that's her in her mind. She's trapped, whirling around in a cycle of negativity, incapable of waking up, breaking free. Her misery ensnares her to her mind, pinning her down like a butterfly, ready to be ravaged by whichever monsters come this way. The gravity of what happened haunts her, and she is unable to evade this whirlwind that threatens to uproot all she holds dear.
I know what you're thinking, does she have any friends? We're kept in the dark here. Does she socialise? Where are the secondary characters in this tragic girl's life? They're there, I promise you, and you'll meet them soon enough.
~~~
xlyssx