Past Dealings
Sometimes the past is hard to let go. It sank it's hooks into your mind long ago. But there is still hope.
You have to remember that too.
Story (c) Arian Mabe / Amethyst Mare
Past Dealings
Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
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You never sleep well, not after it's happened. The usual signs creep in: difficulty falling asleep, waking up too early, fits of astute wakefulness through the night. The bed sheets were twisted around your ankles, you try to tell yourself. It was too hot; if you put a fan on in the bedroom, you'll be able to move the air around, at least a little bit.
He's coming to get you...
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Close your eyes. Sleep isn't coming. You may not know it yet, but your brain is on high alert, expecting a threat that, well, it may come. It's the potential of that threat that wakes the true terror.
Your thoughts will run rampant, a child with too many toys, while you struggle to tame it. You'll think back: all of us do. What did you do wrong? As you undoubtedly want to see the good in people, you simply cannot possibly pin the blame on someone else, can you? That just wouldn't be fair on them, no, not at all fair. You must have done something. It's illogical, after all, for one person and one person alone to be completely and utterly at fault. So it cannot just have been them.
Or maybe it can be so - pinned on one person. Maybe the one who was out of order...was you?
Go on. Try to wrap your head around that one.
Truth is, you probably thought you'd made your peace with your past, the history of tears and words that sliced through any mental barriers you thought to erect. You set up your walls and declared that that life would be no more, absolutely not.
But it still hurts. It's not as raw as it once was, but the trauma is still there.
And, once you notice it, it's impossible to ignore again. Ignorance may be bliss, but you are far from blissful. Looking over your shoulder in train stations is just the start of it, expecting them to scurry out from nowhere, a rat from the sewers, even if your rational brain _knows_this is completely illogical.
Spiral, spiral, spiral.
Down, down, down.
You thought you were rid of this. Curling into yourself, you shut off the outside world, left only with sickening dread and prickling, icy fear. It's an old friend at this point. And no one understands. How can they? They've never been where you are right now, the trails that you've walked and the lies that they told.
Pretend to work. Get by. You can do it. Self-motivation and all that jazz goes a long way, surely? Plaster on a plastic smile, go on. It's all the same charade while your brain screams to be wary, to be alert and, above all, to be ever on the watch for that point of danger.
After all, what if he is coming back for you? You never really escaped their clutches. Your brain is your worst enemy now, telling you that it was just a dream that you got free, that you took one, full breath and then went straight back to that tight, inescapable band around your chest. And the nightmare has barely scratched the surface of the horror, time trickling on while you bob on a rapidly rising tide.
But there will always be that glimmer of hope, a lighthouse on the horizon, if you only have the will to look for it. Gulp down every breath of air you can snatch now, because you're going to need every last drop of oxygen you can get.
Cling on. Watch. Breathe. Remember you. Have faith in you. You were not wrong. You were right. You did well. You can ride out this storm.
He will not lay claim to you ever again.