Blank: Part III


I feel torn, like my heart is placed in a plastic sheet, it beats but the hollow bag around it is stopping me from continuing it from beating. This is the kind of feeling I feel when my heart continues to breath despite the heavy sentiments it harbors, the kind of emotions that paint my soul when I keep dragging my way through life when, in truth, I don’t want to.

I twist in bed a lot, I feel like the blanket is making me cold instead of warm and deep within my dream, I wonder how sleep paralysis really feels like. Something like this, asleep and awake at once? Ciara always said she felt that she couldn’t feel her body and she knew her mind was aware; so fully alert yet unsure if it was the reality. She would often wake up screaming. Sometimes she even woke Nick with her screams. He panicked a lot, unable to understand what his mother was going through, trying to put pieces of all things into a sensible plot but failing everyday.

I thought I could keep her condition under wraps, tell him to go back to bed everyday but for how long? I remember the question until one day, I couldn’t keep the truth because she was going, the laughing, energetic woman in my life, in our life was slipping into a black hole where she was afraid that she would not be able to swim to the surface or even identify herself.

Ben, you known something, I might forget myself, the way I look but I will never forget you or our son. Never, it’s a promise that I want to keep to myself. And there is no way that I am going to let that snake rip the memories apart. You might forget me with time, I won’t I promise, I can’t, its impossible. It’s coming. They are also coming. I can’t believe the weak person that I have become. I can’t be a lunatic, I don’t want to be, Ben. Help me, Ben.

Ciara, xx

The letter reads itself in my dreams and I become increasingly restless in my sleep, until I am finally able to break the sleep’s spell and pull my eyes open. My breathing is heavy and I keep telling myself that time will heal everything. But deep inside, I know there is not even a remote possibility of anything mending or scars sealing themselves this time around. It is just not possible every time. Not when fate decides to target a teenager.

I sit straight and involuntarily; my hand goes to the pile of letters, sitting impatiently on my side table.

Dear Ben,

You are my gem, don’t give up, I am trying and I am trying to fight it but the two-headed snake has decided to take me. I will continue trying to battle the odds despite the nightfall and running out of luck. I hear the keys clashing against the wall again.

I am trying to silence it but it doesn’t go. Why in the world would anybody want to run through the walls. Whoever it is, is it trying to damage the paint on the walls for some secret? The hissing, it’s here…


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