All Flowers Need Sunshine
Where am I now? This question is irrelevant. I am somewhere within Kirigakure, in the land of water, so far from my land; the land I love. This place is hazy and it is hard to breathe in the suffocating air. The gray mist engulfs everything and strains my lungs as I look for a place of abandonment and free expression. My swollen red eyes look for a way out. The solitary lands of ice are preferred more than this. Here, the very air filled with confusion and doubt plagues me. My fatigued and burning legs bring me to a river stained with a glistening crimson; its fumes are intoxicating. It can bring me away from this world. As the gray mist fills my lungs again, I can only think of one way to escape, and I submerge myself within the scarlet waters. Not thinking, not breathing, not anything. Only, from beneath the surface, do I find the amethyst sky beautiful and the gray mist enchanting. Only from here, do I see the precious silhouettes of my dear memories and the faint traces of my dreams, hopes, and ambitions. Only from here, can I see something better, something that I would have never been able to see on the surface. Only here, I may find any escape. And as the water slowly fills my lungs, I daren't swim to the surface... for this is the only way I can find comfort.
I close my eyes and allow myself to fall, deep into the lake the flow of the water drags me, I never would have thought the undercurrent was so strong, the water dyed red with crimson blood. Mist is all around up in the air, and I am tired. I am so, so tired of it all. I cannot seem to find comfort in simple things anymore. It takes this, this death of the mind to free me to be soothed. Fish flit around me as precious air travels upwards and away from me, the bubbles golden in the crimson waters, the pain, deep within my heart easing the more my lungs strain. And as I let my eyes drift shut, the water's silence is broken by a sound not unlike that of a small underwater explosion. I do not let them open again, even as strong arms wrap around my waist and haul me to the surface. I do not want to return. I do not want to face the world above. But I do not struggle in these strong capable arms, they would not let go of me. Because even half-alive is alive enough to recognize the strength in these arms belongs to him. Him, but he hates me. And I do not blame him. I am scum of the earth, I am trash, and I am bitch, the very definition of sadistic, twisted, and unnaturally cruel. I am spoiled, I am bratty, and I need everything done my way. And he is not one for doing things to please others. And as we both break the surface and he gives me air with his mouth, I do not try to push away, to free myself, but I do not respond. He shakes me, calls my name, and tries to bring me out of my stupor. He can feel the heart beating. My body has already expelled the water in my lungs, but I refuse speech. My eyes stay closed.
He does not know what to do. My eyes are open; I stare blankly out into space. As he checks for the reaction, pupils contract and dilate as he once again checks all vitals. I refuse to speak even when he demands it of me; I am stubbornly dead inside. Again, again, again, he calls my name, trying to elicit some response but I only let my eyes drift closed. I am of no purpose here. I am a failure as a mother, as a woman. He shakes me again, will not let my eyes close, will not let me rest. The water beckons me again, because outside of it, the amethyst sky looks once more a thin veil of blood over the blue sky, once more the grey mist is filling my lungs with depression, I long for the sun. I smile, looking at the boy- no, I must remember he is a man now, one with every right to say no- who was the one source of sunlight in this dreary, grey land. I close my eyes again. And he does not shake me this time, but I do feel lifted into strong, safe arms that really do not give a damn about me. And as I turn into him, close my eyes and sleep, I can feel- perhaps it is my imagination, but it is all too clear to me- the shudder of repulsion from him as our skin touches. He has every right to just let me drown.
Nights, I lay awake wondering if the only reason he saved me was for the sake of my child, if he knows that I have his, and whether I should keep it secret from him. If Makoto were alive… well, If Makoto Were Alive, I would not have had her son to save me.
I do not speak to him again.
It is the least I can do for him.
Spare him the sound of my voice.
I will not speak in front of him again.
- Guess who for a brownie^^ This chapter may not be finished. I dunno, it just doesn't feel finished to me.
Is that weird? I wrote this inspired again, by novocaine
Guess who for a brownie^^
This chapter may not be finished. I dunno, it just doesn't feel finished to me.