Escape

8

Bad kind of adrenaline

After he turned around he gave me a firm look that said "behave".

I forced the rational side of my brain to have control over my body, so I obeyed. I knew it's better to get checked out but the whole situation is just fucked up.

It seems like Dylan tries to make it better or something, which I don't understand.

The whole thing is just confusing, why would he help me?

The doctor came in and shook my hand while introducing himself.

It was so strange to see someone else apart from Dylan... I haven't seen the world for so long, I forgot there's life outside this bloody house.

After he made the pictures he needed a few minutes to examine them. All of us were in the living room, waiting for the results.

"It seems like it's cracked, which means it's not broken but you have to rest and be careful for a few weeks."

Okay, great news...

I just felt numb. The good result didn't cheer me up. I still couldn't believe the fact that someone hit me.

After he left I went back to my room and did what he said. I spent most of my days in my room, mostly writing, or with Dylan's permission and supervision walking a bit in the forest.

Feeling this empty was something I was afraid of.

After a few days, when there was still no sign from the world, I knew that at some point I won't cry myself to sleep every night. I won't flinch every time he says something. I won't have a breakdown over the fact I might be a dead woman.

I knew that one day I'll accept it. I'll accept that I'm stuck here, and no matter how much I'll exercise or how many times I'll try to escape.

One day all the fear and pain will be too much and to be able to cope with it, I'll accept it, it'll be normal.

I dreaded that day, because with numbness comes hand in hand that you forget who you are.

I've met this feeling a few times in my life and it was always a big fight to earn myself back. I greeted that numbness like an abusive ex I haven't seen in the past years.

But writing always helped me. It made me feel again. I could find myself when I was creating and also bring back emotions to my soulless body.

Of course I still cried occasionally, and his dark voice still gave me chills sometimes. But this time I didn't make a sound while I cried. I didn't need time to calm down. It's just staring at the ceiling with silent tears on your cheek.

And that's just not me.

That's why I spent a lot of time on writing, because it kept me on the ground and helped me not to lose my sanity.

It went like this for a few days. My rib started to get better, the bruise was fading. We kept our distance with Dylan, talked only when it was necessary. Luckily he allowed me to explore the forest a little bit, but he always stayed next to me. Although the silence was uncomfortable, I always ignored he's there.

The nature was also something that always brought me back pieces I lost. The weather was nice. Despite it's summer, under the trees it was never too hot. Personally I think that's the perfect temperature.

Today I decided to have a light work out. I payed attention to my rib, and didn't over-exercise, so this time it rather gave me energy, than drained me like last time.