Hey there. This isn't really how you would picture seeing me is it? I'm broken and breaking and I don't think you or I can stop it from progressing any farther. But look at you, you can still tell who I am right? You can still see me in this – façade. That means a lot doesn't it? I mean it used to. I don't feel it anymore, not to say I don't love you anymore its just – I don't remember what that is. I would love you to tell you again that I love you.
But I'm too far now aren't I?
This thing got me. It took my hand and dragged me down into its own trail of idiocy. Now I look like this and you're scared of me. Where did all the other feelings of me you had go? Where is the emotion that made me feel wanted? Do you really not see me anymore?
I've really fallen so far haven't I?
The ceiling was dank and the brown of it made things blur together. I couldn't focus on anything until the brightest thing in my life smiled down at me. They said nothing, ever, but their features stayed sweet and caring. Their deep brown eyes, the curls in their hair; they always helped me when I got frustrated or I just woke up. I would happily stare and admire the soft edges of these simple features and their earthy color. I gently caressed their soft cheek and smiled up at them, forgetting the weeping voice that possessed me when I slept. "Sarah," I groaned slightly, "What time is it?"
She made a motion with her hands at the clock angrily.
"What do you mean I slept late," I asked.
She sat on my chest and wiggled madly.
"Whoa, come on Sarah," I cried.
She looked at me intensely and then gave a small smirk.
"Sarah, no," I stated bluntly. "The last time we did that to wake up we were lost for a week. I'm not going to make our hosts worry any more than they already have to." She pouted and got onto her feet, making the hardwood creek under her weight as she gently padded to the door. When she slipped out the door, I got out from under my covers and slowly got into casual wear. A simple blue plaid button-up, a pair of faded jeans, and a pair of colorful socks; Sarah got the privilege of choosing my socks. She always said that my outfit was always monochromatic and boring.
I trailed myself out of my given room and to the stairwell that reached down to the lobby and dining rooms and cascaded up to the owners' living quarters. I stumbled down and didn't lose my footing for a change of pace as I set foot into the kitchen. Riley, the daughter of the owners, was cooking like always, he short hair still in a state of black disarray. She let out a roar and stabbed a piece of bread in front of her.
"This fucking shit sucks," she bellowed.
"Riley," Gerald sauntered through the door frame. He was a big kid, nearing six feet, but he was young and slow. His dark features made him look more ferocious then he needed to be and he and Riley weren't a very good pair at school. She would start the fight with her angry retorts and Gerald would be the one to block punches from both sides. Sarah poked in and made quieting motions to the two who looked ready to settle some sort of score and just on cue, the bright, cheerful owners of the house came into the kitchen.
"Good morning," I bowed my head to the male Riley. His name was Rylan and he was quite the guy. He stood tall but had a lean build and curly black hair that framed his set jaw and stern stare.
"Looks like everyone's awake today," I stared at Rylan's wife, Gabriela. She was a lot shorter, close to midget size, and was thicker. She was a kind woman with a gentler complexion and a warm gaze. It made Sarah happy enough to speak without anyone else in the room; she never spoke to anyone else or with anyone else. She had long, wavy brown hair and gentle hands.
"Good morning Mom," Riley sang happily. She seemed to hop to her mother and kiss her cheek before hugging her father and making him smile a bit.
"How did you sleep," he asked her.
"I had that weird dream again," she shrugged.
"Did you die again," he asked casually. I stiffened at the beginning of this conversation. Of course I remembered her death, I hoped she wouldn't; she didn't deserve that now.
"I think I did," she nodded. "These things, they come out of nowhere and like always I'm fighting them off. I'm standing on some sort of corpse or something, and they started to outnumber me again. This time though, there was a bright light." I stopped and it was noticeable. Sarah looked to me and cocked her head to the side. I shook mine and smiled.
"Why do we have to talk about something so depressing," I chuckled. "Let's eat Riley's cooking and enjoy the morning, huh?" I got some nods and everyone went buffet-style down the kitchen counter to retrieve their food before sitting at the dining room table. The talkative nature of the day's plans, the scolding of eating like an animal, it was almost as though the death of Riley was never mentioned. Sarah gazed at me silently, never letting me be from her vision.