Iris

16 | smile

     THE ONLY sources of interruption to the eerie quietude that had settled upon my entire room were the faint sounds my deep inhales had resulted in, and the rapid thuds my pacing heart had emitted as its beats grew more painful against my ribcage. Their faint noises blended within seconds and grew louder than ever before as they gradually filled my ears, deafening them and sending a shiver of fear throughout my entire body on the impact.

My breaths were uneven and sporadic; my chest constantly heaving as my lungs attempted to grasp onto any single ounce of oxygen. And my heart was racing; its dulled beats being the only source of distraction that held my mind from wandering back to the images of the nightmare that had woken me up.

They were so vivid; identical to those of the flashback I had gotten the day before. James and Claire were both present, their gazes a complete contrast to one another. James' held nothing but frustration and a tad of satisfaction while Claire's held lots of anger and an endless amount of exhaustion. They were both arguing, muttering words I couldn't understand anything from even though my figure was right beside them, curled up in the corner and attempting to seem as invisible as possible—attempting to ease the pain that pierced into each and every limb of mine.

I shook my head, my weak attempt to get rid of the images that had started playing right before my gaze being a success and pulling my mind back to reality. To the fact that my fosters were no longer a part of my life—that they wouldn't hurt me any further because they were dead. No longer capable of hurting others. No longer alive. And no longer powerful. Dead.

I unceasingly repeated the same word within my mind and gradually built a shield out of it, desperately asking it to never falter; to forbid all the dark memories I had buried away from lashing out at me—from haunting my sleep and my thoughts. And to keep them away from my mind's reach whenever I would attempt to grasp onto their blurred images or whenever I would attempt to make sense out of them in order to fix the pieces of the puzzle.

I no longer wanted to see the final, complete image of that puzzle, or to understand what had happened to me the night of the accident. It would bring me nothing but pain. And I was no longer capable of enduring any more pain.

My mind was no longer capable of holding any more memories. They were all so dark and so heavy. Suffocating. Blinding. Deafening. And they were so greedy, gaining all their power by hurting me. By exhausting my mind and snatching all my strength away from me.

I didn't want any of that. If my fosters had died, then why didn't their memories die with them? Why didn't the pain they had made me feel over the years dim away and vanish?

I was so tired. Of everything.

I only wanted to forget everything I had gone through. To bury all the memories away. So deeply that they'd never get the chance to resurface my mind again. And so deeply that they'd get suffocated and dim. Die off. Leave no trace of their existence. Maybe then, I wouldn't feel as tired. And maybe then, I wouldn't feel so scared of everyone and everything; I wouldn't see danger in the simplest stuff around me.