Again, I’m so enraged and hurt I can hardly think coherently.
Again, I promise myself to remain miserable for the rest of my existence.
“No, I don’t deserve your love,”I want to scream, but I can’t.
I don’t deserve rest. Look at what I’ve done, the destruction I’ve caused. I broke our family. This ismydoing.
I deserve to rot.
Rot.
Rot.
Rot—
“You deserve more.”
This time is different… I seem to be aware that I’m reliving this experience over and over again for the first time since this cycle began.
My subconscious is communicating with me. Odd.
I can’t tell if that’s a good sign or if I’ve officially lost my mind.
I also can’t help but wonder why my subconscious has such a masculine, deep voice.
As that thought crosses my mind, I hear a rich chuckle inside my head.
Oh, no.I’m actually hearing voices that aren’t mine. Who knew that was a part of the crossover experience? Why didn’t this occur during any of the other horrendous times?
“You deserve more,”the voice repeats urgently.
“No. I do not,” I whisper within my mind.
“I’m afraid you do. You’re meant to be happy, angel.”
Angel.That nickname strikes a chord.
“I don’t know if you’ve been watching this play out, but I’m no angel. I’m a destroyer. I single-handedly destroyed my family within a matter of seconds. I killed my dad. So, no, Idon’tdeserve happiness and never will.”
“You didn’t kill your dad. He fell with you because he couldn’t bear the thought of you going through this alone. He did that out of love for you.”
“LoveIdon’t deserve!”
“Give yourself grace. Can’t you see how much your family loves you?”
“I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve any of it. I ruined their lives. I should’ve died alone.”
No person who loves me walks away unscathed. I hurt everyone who loves me. I’m like a black hole, a plague, a—
“The short amount of time you were a part of their livesmadetheir lives.”
Tears sting my eyes as my mom runs her fingers through my matted, bloodied hair. If I could shake my head in protest, I would.
“Your family wouldn’t want you to put yourself through hell for what happened. Especially not your old man.”
“You couldn’t possibly know that.”
“I’m all-knowing, actually.”I hear a smile in this voice.
