Vitalitas (Latin): Life force.
Petit a petit, loiseau fait son nid (Little by little, the bird makes it's nest)
- French Proverb.
Rose's POV:
It was weird.
The way the silent night mingled into the bustling cacophony of the airport and their transition- It was truly overwhelming.
I liked to stand in front of the main airport of Oxford. It was very far from the chamber that I had come to call home for past month, but yet, I liked standing here for no absolute reason.
I liked to reminisce what I had left behind.
I liked to remember what was once mine.
A gust of cold wind blew, stroking my form. My fists balled automatically.
When I had stepped on Oxford, something unknown had immediately lit up my senses. It wasn't elusive like London, but wasn't shabby either.
It had a gentle aura roaming around it, from people's smile to their walking style, everything screamed softness.
I remember hailing a taxi cab, showing him my ID and plane ticket, requesting him to take me to the cheapest hotel that was safe for women.
The driver had lead the vehicle through the poorer side of the region. It was shabbier and more unprepossessing than my previous home. I remember thinking of it as 'more human' as the car moved cutting the mist of the blowing wind.
I sighed, my mind replaying the memories for the umpteenth time.
It didn't take me long to find a suitable place for me. It was small yet comfortable place, a bit stinky, but safe and the rent was reasonable too.
Most importantly, it was located in a secluded arena.
The bustles and hurries of the people was spot on as they rushed out from the airport gate. Some had glasses over their faces, some had phones latched on their ears- all was busy- not seeming to care about the girl who had been standing there for an hour.
I scratched my right arm as I felt a mosquito bite. These annoying creatures should go extinct.
My eyes felt like as if they were made out of granite. I felt nothing, not a thing whatsoever.
I was numb.
It had been going like this for the past month.
Yes, there were constant nightmares. Every single night I would dream of my foster dad molesting my 6 year old body, torturing me until I couldn't take it anymore.
I would scream, cry, beg for help, writhe and holler until my vocal cords couldn't take anymore and then I would wake up.
Realizing that all of it was a nightmare.
I would often discover myself wrapped in my bedsheet, drenched in sweat with a racing heart and aching throat- with tears streaming down my eyes.
And then I would scream.
I would scream until my tears came, unleashing all the anguish I was experiencing. This would often leave my vocal cords damaged, my eyes puffy and throbbing- but nonetheless it felt good to cry out.
And each of my night would blend into the dawn like this, the first light of the morning would often reflect itself through my tears.
Without my mama I was nothing but a mess of nightmares.
It had been going on for a month and now I guess I was too far gone into the pit of anguish that my body had shut down each and every feeling of 'feels.'
I felt like a hollow. A walking shell.
I mold of a human being with blood, flesh, bones and tears, but no soul.
I turned around from the bustling airport, and walked. My light rose satin frock swayed with the soft breeze, the jean jacket I was wearing was protecting me from chills.
If anyone was to pass by, they would see a normal girl walking normally.
But the saddest thing was that they couldn't see the darkness that resided in me.
At times like this, I wanted to yell and scream, I wanted to beg them to bring me back, to make me feel something, anything.
But I knew nothing could ever heal me now.
I was gone.
The streets were dark, one of two broken lampposts trying to illuminate it..... My stony gaze looked into the hollow as a timid prayer of rejuvenation rose from deep within my broken soul.
I wanted to be free, either from this situation or this body.
I felt something wet on my cheeks, my throat burned, my lips quivered- it was my body's way of coping to the situation.
But me? I was dead. I was caged in this prison called body- waiting to be emancipated.
Sometimes I thought- what if I stayed? What if I let Marienne do whatever he wanted to do? Would I have been dead by now?
My balled up fists clenched themselves a bit more, the burn in my throat was getting almost too unbearable.
The contrast of this inertia and the pain....
Pain is something that make you scream, make you suffer, make you feel like you would die in any moment.
Numbness is something that keeps you shut, make you feel like you aren't a human anymore.
Both make you suffer, both make you want to die.
Such opposites, the feeling of mortality and the feeling of nothingness, yet, so many matches.
At days, I would feel like just jumping off a bridge if it-
Wah!
I flinched as a man passed by me. Shocked, I stood there, breathing heavily.
My heart was pounding loudly inside my ribcage. I placed a hand over it and stared at the man who had brushed past me.
He was too near! Too near!
My lips quivered as I wrapped my arms around me protectively.
What if he had touched me?
My eyes widened.
"....It will be over soon my dear Rose..."
No! Not now!
I started panting heavily. My lungs protested in the lack of air as tears began to blur my vision.
Focus! Focus!
The teary voice in my head was pleading for me to stay together.
You can do it!
The voice was crying now. It was my mind, trying to save me.
I coughed loudly, vigorously.
And then I felt a surge of bile rise in my throat.
"Rosel!" I heard a faint voice yelling from a distance. I knew to whom did that voice belong to, but I was to engrossed in my own misery to respond.
I grabbed the railing by my side- so I was actually walking on a bridge- and disgorged the contents of my stomach on the sidewalk.
Tears continued to leak as I vomited, the pungent smell making me gag.
"Rosel!" A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders, balancing me and then rubbing my back soothingly.
When I was done, I looked back and found Calissa with a look of sadness plastered on her face. Her beautiful blonde streaks flying and her blue eyes shadowed with worry made me feel bad for her.
Calissa was my neighbor. She had been living in that area for 5 years and was a prostitute by profession. She was brought into this trade by a human seller, who tricked her and raped her.
She suffered from the same shit I did, but the difference was she wasn't molested in her early childhood.
When she found herself in that situation, she just coped herself and willed herself to like it.
I still don't know if she likes it, she said she did but I wasn't the one to believe her.
She has been my support for the past month.
She knew why I had random panic attacks, she knew why I was so frail, she knew..... I told her and she listened to it and pacified me like an elder sister would.
I trusted her, somehow she had became my support system in all those nights when I would wake up screaming and crying.
A lot of people despised her, called her a whore, but for me, she was the most supportive person.
And she called me Rosel. She claimed that it was my rebirth, so I shouldn't be called those boring names like Roseline and Rose. Rosel sounded perfect to her.
"Rosel! Please get up! Can you hear me?!" I nodded as I leaned on her petite form for support, my head spinning from all this devious ordeal.
"Please hold on!" She flung my right arm over her shoulder, a determined look took over her features as she lead us to the old corolla of hers.
The chilly night seemed freezing as she pushed me in the seat. A bottle was handed over and I was instructed to take a big gulp of the water immediately.
After drinking, I kept it aside and leaned on to the window as the car lead us to my new home.
This chapter has two more parts. It's not incomplete.
A sneak peek of rose. My poor baby :(
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Image of Calissa: