23. Serenity of Death
Serenity of Death
Dynah
The self-deprecating thoughts swim around in my head. I can't tell if I'm dead or alive. Maybe I'm just somewhere in between.
Did I think I was actually going to jump? No. Did I think that it would hurt this bad? Also no.
My skin was burning and freezing at the same time. When I hit the water, my soul left my body. The panic in my mind quieted, the inner monologue stopped screaming, and peace instantly claimed me.
The pain from my broken ribs and the pain from the fall jolted my body. I felt electrified, but dead at the same time. Everything fucking hurts tenfold what it was, but if I’m not feeling the pain, then I’m not doing it right.
Why? Why am I always saved? Why did God, or whoever the fuck is in charge, decide to leave me alive? I mean, whoever runs this place called Earth could have easily let me leave it. Do they have any sort of plan for me other than pain and torture?
I have lived this long for nothing. What do I have to show for it? More marks and scars than a zebra? I just want to fucking sleep.
I crave the fresh dirt that splatters on my casket while I'm six feet under. I wish for the emptiness of death. I don't want to be forced to endure more than I already have. What I want is to kill myself, once and for all. Without being saved like some princess in her tower. Is that too much to fucking ask?
I don't want the rage-fueled looks from my disgusting parents, the groping fingers of my father, the moans of my drugged-out mother before she passed. I don't want to feel the sticky linoleum beneath my feet, the maggots as they slide around my fingers when I reach for a crumb of food, or the cockroaches as they fall through the cracks of darkness on the way to find shelter from the light.
Teetering on the edge of consciousness, I take in the sounds that penetrate my ears. I can hear deep baritone voices, the sounds of shoes crunching over the freshly fallen snow, and the noise of a car off in the distance.
This isn't hell, nor is it heaven. Whatever pantheon is in charge has decided to take my soul and force it through more of this miserable existence, and I can't help but be livid. I don't want to be here– can't be here. Just opening my eyes every time I'm brought back from the cut or the hit is like pouring gasoline on an open flame.
I long to feel the serenity of death. What a weird thing to wish for, but then again, if wishes could come true, then I’d be dead. If that could happen– and I'll be damned if I haven't tried– then the most destitute people would have what they wanted. We wouldn't live in a world tortured in the captivity of our own minds. We’re simply forced to birth our fantasies into nightmares and live within them.
I hate it.
My thoughts shift as I feel warmth seeping into my bones. I didn't realize that I was freezing to death, quite literally. I'm not sure why it didn't register; maybe because I'm only half awake– or half alive.
The smell of smoked vanilla, spice, and rain fills my body as I take a long inhale, trapping the scent in my lungs. If the world smelled like this, then I wouldn't want to die. Soft, yet masculine. Sweet but not overpowering. Hands travel through my hair, and I don't know if they are mine or someone else's. I'm so far gone that I don't know up from down, left from right, personal or owned.
I've always been owned. Claimed as property to another human. I've never had someone touch my hair nicely, never had someone hold me like I'm a precious gem. It's a strange feeling when the skin-to-skin contact registers. My breathing accelerates before calming. Whoever or whatever is holding me isn't here to harm me… They are here to take care of me. Why? I'm not special.
I try to open my eyes, but I’m only able to receive glimpses in the dark. Whose car is this? Where are they taking me? Why did they save me?
I start to panic, kicking my feet to the best of my ability and trying to swing on anything close.
“It’s alright, Dynah. You’re safe now. No one will hurt you. Relax, Little Raven,” the deep voice whispers comfortingly.
My body receives the message before my mind does, sinking back down into the warmth of the seat.
I’m okay. I’m safe. No one is hurting me .
It’s a weird feeling to be told that and even weirder for it to be true. But, I will never stop fighting for my own sanity.