Page 2 of Crown Of Desires

The same water where I held her so tightly, terrified the waves would tear her from my arms.

But the nightmares are worth it. Because before they come, I get to see her. I get to talk to her. I get to hear her sweet voice.

I just don’t dare ask her name. Because every time I do, the dream ends.

And I find myself drowning all over again.

“Blyat.” Roman mutters under his breath. “Sergei, I promise I’ll help you find her. Just open the fucking door.” A loud thud rattles the room, making the door groan on its hinges.

Again.

And again.

"You told me I was insane." I mumble

The pounding stops. It’s so sudden the silence rings in my ears. As if he’s afraid that if he says another word, he’ll miss mine.

Like my psychiatrist, he thinks I’m self-destructive too.

I’m not. I have a reason to live.

“Go away.” The words come out slurred as my head slips against the edge of the bed.

I’m a patient man, I’ll wait an eternity. I’ll wait for a single glimpse of her that isn’t born from the fucking pills. That isn’t another cruel dream my mind has stitched together.

But tell me; how many times can a heart break before it forgets how to beat?

What is the limit?

Because I can still feel mine beating. With every heartbeat spent without her, the pain only grows.

ONE

Elara

Present- Age Nineteen

Three months left

How many scars can a body collect before it forgets how to heal? What is the limit?

If there is one, have I crossed it?

I’ve reached the darkest pits of nothingness, but even here, there’s no bottom, merely a widening void that keeps moving, shifting further whenever I almost convince myself I’ve finally hit it.

Because what is life with no dreams, no goals and no hopes? Or is it just me, who’s seen hell before truly dying?

The entirety of my being feels like it’s dragging itself awake while the world speeds past me, too fast for me to ever catch up.

I exist because I’ve been told suicide is frowned upon, and because it hurts the people you leave behind.

Doesn’t it hurt the people who are trying to live when they don’t want to the most?

Yeah, I want to kill myself. I’m not fit to survive among humans and I’ve given up entirely to give therapy a shot again.

All the money I inherited went on a year’s rent for a small two-bedroom flat in Oxfordshire, too close to the university, but it’s not like I had any real aim in life.

Education is a social construct, and I fell into it just to escape London. To escape home.