The room gets darker, and I pick at the scab on my arm. I removed my bandage this morning, and the cut bled a bit after my fight with Sin. The scab will undoubtedly add yet another scar to my collection.
The sharp pain brings me some relief, tethering me to reality.
The shadows on my floor start climbing up the wall, and I squint my eyes, pretending I’m underwater again, drowning.
I forget that I’m holding my breath until my heart starts pounding, and my body convulses, forcing me to gasp.
That was probably longer than two minutes and twenty-three seconds. I forgot to count.
Shame.
Long after the shadows have fully swallowed the room, I finally sit up in bed.
Logically, I know this isn’t healthy behavior. I’ve tried shutting myself in before. It didn’t help.
I need to find a way to feel something again. Anything.
How do you jump-start your emotions?
I get the intrusive thought of a doctor using paddles to shock someone and get their heart beating again. I’m not too keen on getting blasted by ten thousand volts, but the theory behind it has some merit.
Maybe I can shock my body into feeling something again. I just need to do something that elicits a strong emotional response.
I could go find Sin and slap him. That would probably bring me joy. But then I’ll have to deal with Sin again, and I might just end up spiralling back to square one. His habit of reminding me that I’m a worthless whore, and that I’ve been duped by everyone around me has done wonders for my mental health.
Pursing my lips and not finding any other ideas, I stretch out of bed and sneak out of my room as quietly as possible.
The corridors are shrouded in darkness, but the faint light of the moon filters through the windows, illuminating the halls enough that I don’t walk into anything.
My steps are silent as I pad along the old wooden floors. I avoid the spots that creaked earlier, and for the first time in my life, I don’t make a sound while trying to be sneaky.
I’d be surprised, only I fought someone with swords today.
It’s hard to top that.
Voices sound from an open door up ahead, but I take a turn in the hall, avoiding whoever is awake. Another minute of making my way through a labyrinth of halls, and I spot a heavy wooden door.
Perfect.
The door gives a slight creak as I push it open, and I close it behind me as quietly as possible. It’s already dark, but I can still see the shadows of the creepy forest. It’s as if the forest is shrouded in an even heavier darkness.
Instead of making my way to that hellscape, I turn, heading for the steep cliffs that reach far above the tree line. The shadowy forms block out the stars beyond them.
Insects chitter, providing a welcome relief from the deafening silence.
When my mind registers my surroundings again, I’m standing in front of the cliff face. It’s as if I’ve blinked and appeared in front of it, but in reality, I know I’ve walked for ages. My feet ache in the new boots.
An almost vertical wall of rock looms above me, stretching at least 200 feet into the night sky. When I feel nothing at the thought of the task ahead of me, I start to climb.
At some point, my body should register how dangerous this is.
Halfway up now, and I feel nothing.
I keep going.
My fingers have started to bleed, making it difficult to get a good grip on the cracks in the rocks. The muscles in my arms are shaking, and it won’t be long until they give out.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
