Ok... so this is seriously weird because my computer or fanfiction or both isn't letting me upload documents, so me, being the genius i am (jokes :P) tried copying and pasting it into one of the other documents that i already had on my document manager... so far it has worked... but we shall see. I wrote this last night, but then couldn't post got in a rather annoyed mood. So i really hope this works. It will cheer me up no end. This is a one shot. I already have way too many ongoing fics :P It's a bit strange, and i'm still not sure i like it, it's quite OOC, i think so sorry. It's also my first time writing ff in first person... But i hope you like it anyways!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I reaallllyyyyy wanna own the boxset of season one... christmas can't come soon enough :P
You know, how when it's pitch black, and you're in a place you don't know feeling your way through the darkness, you get that little flare of fear deep inside you, even though you know it's irrational? The way you use your hands to guide you, because you can't depend on your eyes anymore and the way your hand might slip, and your heart will skip a beat, and maybe unintentionally your breath hitches a little? Your feet tread lightly, carefully because you're scared if you put one foot wrong in the dark you will slip, and fall. And hurt. That's how it feels with my emotions right now, if my hand slips my heart will speed up, and I feel like I can hear it in my chest, and I'm scared to put my feet down in case I slip. Slip into the inevitable world of pain and hurt I will feel if I begin to acknowledge certain things, feelings. Feelings that scare me. Terrify me.
Everyone has a part of them that's afraid of the dark; they have to because darkness means not knowing something. And not knowing scares a lot of people; it sure as hell scares me. A part of every person on this planet is scared of the unknown. We have to be, how else would we have survived this long? And the dark, the dark makes everything more scary. Even though in reality the place is exactly the same in daylight, when the sun is out and shining the world appears to be ok, but really it's just an illusion, hiding the cruel and dark place it really is. The world is itself in the dark it's scary and dangerous – everything that the world really is.
When I was a child before my mother died and I was plunged into a whirlwind of darkness, I would sit at night on my bed peeking out my curtains and try and count the stars. My mom used to tell me that stars were people that were gone from this world, who we'd loved and who'd loved us. And that when they were lost they became stars in the sky, so they could look down and watch over us, protect us. I'd asked her whether they were like angels, she'd smiled and kissed my cheek, not answering my question until she got to the edge of my room, when she told me 'yes' softly. I'd called goodnight, and she'd whispered back, 'goodnight, my angel' in her sweet loving voice. And then when she was gone, I'd sit and do my star counting, I remember thinking it was mean how many people were turned into stars, because I could never count them all before exhaustion took over and I slipped into a peaceful sleep, I thought that was a lot of people to lose. Little did I know. I haven't counted the stars since.
The night my beautiful, sweet mother who I doted upon died, I sat in my bed, tears making their way down my face and though I knew I was crying I couldn't feel it. I couldn't feel anything. I was still numb. I sat there that whole night, and I remembered listening. The only sound I heard was my own breathing. Soft, I remember the sound of inhaling, and exhaling and that's all I heard that night. All I felt, my chest rising and falling, tears spilling out of my pretty green eyes and down my cheeks. I felt my heart inside me, beating, pulsing. Helping the numbing feeling.
The next morning when I woke up I felt the extent of my pain, I have never felt so much emotional hurt in my life. Not since that day. Never the same feeling of anguish, desperation. Every heartbeat released fresh waves of despair it was torture. It was hell on earth. And when you lose someone, that pulsing, it never really goes away, it fades a little, into the background. Becomes something you can deal with on a day to day basis but you feel like as long as you live it will always be there. From time to time it resurfaces, beats louder, hurts you more, but then it fades again. It is a never ending circle. But the pain becomes bearable, and you learn to live with it, simply because you have too because you haven't got over it, you think you never will.
When you lose someone, you love so much they take a part of you with them. You have a hole in you, a piece of what makes you, you missing. And it will never be replaced, it's as simple as that. You learn to live with it, that space - that void. And you know nothing will ever fill it, and you deal with that. People die. It happens all the time, it just hurts a hell of a lot more when it's your mom, and you are at the tender age of ten.
A few nights after my mom died as I lay on bed, I looked out my window up at the stars, searching. And I swear I found one that I hadn't seen before. I might have been making it up, I was young and I don't know. But there was something about that star that made me wonder, and I stared at it all night. It was a little brighter than the others, and at the time I thought it was my mom. It was an odd comfort to me, my empty, hurting heart, thinking that she was looking over me.
After her death, it took me a while to grasp that she was gone, that she was never coming back. My kind, sweet adoring mother would never come and kiss my forehead and say goodnight, never smile at me, laugh at me, clap her hands and say she was proud of me, or say she loved me again. It took a little while to sink in, and when I finally got it, got that no matter how many times I begged god that I would never be naughty again, never argue with my brothers or say mean things, it wouldn't bring my mommy back, I felt completely hollow. Empty.
I learnt how the cruel the world really is, because I was plunged into the dark without warning. And somehow I scraped and scrambling through my remaining childhood still empty, all alone. And eventually I got out the other side, I'd made it – and in one piece, just about. I decided my mom would be proud of me and thinking like that had made me proud of myself. It had not been easy, but I was a survivor. And I'd decided to join the CBI. That was the best decision I ever made.
Then I met Patrick Jane, my blonde haired blue eyed assistant, I got to know him, and yet again I was plunged into the darkness, back into the unknown. The far too familiar feeling made me nervous, uptight. Scared again. And when my heart fluttered and I closed my eyes as he kissed me softly, gently, constant pain still in my heart all these years later eased a little, and the pulsing was not there it was gone.
I was finally healing.
Now I can only hope I can do the same for him.
What do you think? Cos i'm not totally sure about this one, it just wrote itself. Oh and can you please let me know if you're having the same problem as me?