Page 94 of Mortala
There's a laundry list of ways I've thought about going, some more messy than others, but there's always the same outcome—release.At times, I can feel liberation's phantom licks seducing me.It begins at my fingertips with a tongue unapologetically coiling around my digits until it reaches the fluttering pulse below the delicate skin of my wrist.
Other days, it's a whisper.A wafer-thin murmur in the background so subtle the spoon-fed ideas feel more like your own rather than the conviction of monsters.The worst part is how bliss invades every part of your being when you finally decide to find the void.
I can't keep myself away from them—the thoughts.Any time it gets quiet, that's where I go, down the rabbit hole.Forgetting the world exists, what I'm doing, who I'm with, or the events that have brought me to this point.
When it comes for me, I can't help but whisper back.Throwing myself into a dangerous game of truth or dare—always erring on the side of challenge.
"Sadie, you might want to eat those mashed potatoes instead of pushing them around on your plate like some Zen Garden."
Yeah, he's still here.A sentry held up in the corner, armed and ready for a battle he cannot win.I admire his dedication in some form or fashion, but even his encouragement does little to no good.Not when I can read through him like the rice-paper pages of the Bible—words on the other side too dark to hide.
Say something, stupid girl.
No.
Do it, I will speak for you.
Liz shouts through me.My lips barely move with her rage.
Worthless thing!
She insults me while slamming inside of my skull.
I'm too tired to care for her tirade.
Still, I push the potatoes across the plate.Maybe if they appear disturbed, the nurses will think I ate today.I'm not hungry.My head hurts too much lately, makes it hard to hold an appetite or think beyond the chore of breathing.
I don't know when he moved but Elias appears beside me.His body eclipses the light and casts a shadow over me as if it's a weighted blanket.
"Hey..."he murmurs as he cautiously takes my hand."Don't have to eat them.Will you drink something instead?There's some broth.Try a little bit then we can go back to sleep."
Sleep...I could sleep some more.Yeah, that sounds good.
He takes the fork from my hand and sets it down on the tray, then does something I don’t expect— he sits with me.So, close I can feel warmth coming from his frame.Wordlessly, I scan his profile.He has a nose that's been cracked one too many times but still suits him.From the nights where the demons kept me awake, I've catalogued every tiny detail I could find.His cupid's bow, the crow’s feet at the corner of green eyes I avoid most often, the faintest smile lines because he wouldn't be caught dead smiling when he's always on guard.
The man’s been weathered by life.He's loved and cared for people who left him behind.Witnessed too many good people die at the hands of enemies.Stuck around to guide people and asked for nothing in return, only to see them succeed.Beneath his shell, he's the person everyone needs and I'm no different.No matter how long I have him and when words fail me, I'll always need him.
We don't speak again.What else is there to say anyway?
Beside me, Elias picks up the Styrofoam cup full of broth and removes the lid.My heart hiccups when he blows cool air across the top.Ever so carefully, he reaches his other arm over my shoulder and tucks me against him, then tilts the cup and feeds me from it.
Small sips—if not for myself, then for him.
I surprise myself when the little girl inside of me seeks him out.Her small arms wrap around his waist and hold on for dear life.
I'm on the merry-go-round again, spinning around and around and around.Boys and girls of all shapes and sizes are standing around as I spin.I can barely make out their blurry and scratched-out faces.Then his profile passes me quickly.Everything is moving too fast for me to focus, even when he zips by me again.
Wobbly, Earth's gravity slings me faster and faster, my legs too short to reach the ground to slow my spin.
I'm scared.
I want off.
Small hands grasp metal bars to haul me up from the platform where I sit with my legs dangling from the side in my pink dress.Wind catches the gentle cotton while sunshine sparkles off the glittery centers of the white flowers sewn into my skirt.
Dappled shadows I once chased now swarm the merry-go-round and creep across the metal.The monster, she's coming.
Not again.
