Not safe.
I look up. The darkness doesn’t seem so… unending, anymore. It’s lightened, almost a murky grey. I can see movement.
I take a breath. The scents are stronger.
Mine.
These are… mine.
Let me through, I whisper in the dimness.Let me see.
Not yet.
It sounds like… me.
I run through what I know.
I am… Kenny.
It fits. A knowing that settles into me, warming me a little more.
They are mine.
It’s more than I had. But I need more.
Show me.
Help me.
The bars stretch a little further. Not enough to let me out.
But enough for them to slipin.
Safe.
But there’s an uncertainty to the thought. A silent question.
As if whatever pushes through the bars, wrapping me in warmth and comfort… it’s a possibility. Not an inevitability.
But I let myself curl into it anyway.
***
The warmth doesn’t leave me. This time, it… stays.
And with it comes more jagged glimpses. Enough that I start to build up a picture. Piece by piece. As if I’m rebuilding a wall that collapsed years ago, but my mind still remembers the way it should be.
I know these pieces, I realize. I don’t remember. Not yet. But I know them. The ache in my chest pulses, leaps, as if in agreement.
I know you.
Eyes. So many. Dark eyes, steady and unmoving. Green eyes, that glitter and shift. Blue eyes, calm and comforting. Hazel, warm and soft.
I know you.
***
The bars snap beneath my hands. Breaking, fading, as if they were never there.
