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I wandered the path aimlessly, looking around. All I could see was dust. No one was there but me. My hands were a mess; it looked like I had been in a fight for days, yet my body did not show it. My body acted as if it could withstand anything— not even a push would make me fall.
As I walked, I looked around, taking in the scenery. What once were houses were now pits of dust and ashes. My eyes felt so heavy, I wanted to cry. I saw the corpses that lay around. No one was there to clean up the mess. What had happened while I was asleep that could be so terrible? My home was no longer there. It disappeared in an instant, as if it had never existed.
I continued walking, feeling the urge to vomit when I stepped over her body. My mom—right there, eyes white, covered in black, dried blood. The details of the lacerations suggested it had been done weeks ago at most, though I had only just received that image in my head. I turned my body to face my dad. He was hung from a tree—despite always being the one to cut them down, he was now hanging vigorously. His eyes were terrified. I tried to unsee it. I tried to unsee everything, but my mind wouldn't let me. The more I took in, the more I felt blood spilling through my veins. I felt as if I might fall with every step.
I panted heavily, every few seconds, until it became hyperventilation. My eyes began to roll. I no longer had the will to attempt at this anymore. I would have given in just to stop seeing what I had just seen.
The next moment, however, my body shifted to the air, almost as if I had never been on the ground. I felt as if I had never walked. I began flying—but the further I went, the darker it became. The world turned black as I passed on and on. My vision blurred. I began to feel sadder. I didn't want to continue.
My only hope was that I would reunite with my friends—those friends I had lost so long ago. Fragmentation was everywhere—so many fragments. Everything I saw came to me in visions and words. I felt as if I was aware of things I shouldn't have been, but despite that, every night in this home, my thoughts fragmented more and more. The longer I went, the emptier I became. Darkness shrouded everything that once was, rerouting my brain.
The degree of trauma that now haunted me was a relic of a past that hadn't happened in events or sequences I recognized—but somewhere else, somewhere I had no knowledge of. I watched it over and over again at night, until my heart started pounding constantly. I hyperventilated, wondering… if… but nothing ever happened. All I saw was darkness. The tomb was so close.
What were you thinking when you saved me, Leah? What were you… My mind wanted to cry and say everything was my fault—but you wouldn't allow me. You wouldn't allow me to do that. I didn't understand. Why would anyone who loved someone like me… even take me? Even slaughter your dad for me? Some might call you obsessive, but from my point of view, you had done more than I ever thought you would.
Even now, life is fragmentation. To stop it is impossible. Reality will come to a conclusion, yet the questions are left unanswered.
Still, the fog in my brain won't go away, unanswered. I can't know. I can't know what you're truly thinking. I can't know everything about you without you opening up. But in reality, I can't bring myself to force you to open up. Even if I could, I would feel wrong. You'd feel out of place. Even though we are in a relationship, I can't force that. These are just my thoughts—contemplation, all of it. But why? Why does it feel so dark? Why does it feel so lonely? Why do I feel like I'm not enough? Or do I feel like everything will disappear? Everything I worked for, everything I tried to work for, could all vanish with just one word. Even when my eyes haze and the stars gaze, my head isn't straight. But even then, I try my best.
I woke at last. My dream had been quite the contemplation. I began to question everything I said in it, but then all of it disappeared, like amnesia—it was never there. I couldn't bring myself to stay still. I looked over at Leah, hoping she was all right. She had fought a big battle, and I was worried for her, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I was concerned.
I decided to get up and start walking. Our new safe haven—or sanctuary—was guarded. We didn't have to worry about being tracked, but even then, our minds weren't settled. We were always on edge.
I dug into my pocket, picking out a locket that had been stored away. I opened it and read the phrase aloud:
"Though we may weep, tears aren't forever. Joy is there. Despite falls, you will fail, but you can still stand tall. Even if the world is against you, the weight is strong, the pressure too much—you are enough."
Even then, it was signed: "Written by Gerald, your loving friend. P.S. I still have your magazine."
My eyes began to tear up as I read it. My friend—long gone by now—had written this to me, and I had kept it in the locket in my pocket. Now that I looked back on it, maybe I did have friends—more than I realized. Back then, I didn't want to accept it. I didn't want to accept that I was loved, because those thoughts ate me up at night. I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, asking myself what was true and what was a lie. Now, I know my answer.
I decided to wander further, but not too far from our safe haven, so nothing would happen. By the time I began to wander, Leah had woken.