Written by Angel-Amy-22. May be continued if there are enough likes.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Drowning.
I was drowning.
Everything was dark, it was cold.
I was alone, quietness filled my head.
No sound could reach me for the monster I've reared has eaten me whole.
I've been torn limb from limb, yet my heart still beats without trouble. This monster still has me in it's clutches.
This monster called Guilt, ate me from the inside out.
I no longer feel.
Inside me is empty.
. . .
My father has taken me to every doctor yet none could see the suffering I drowned in. Physically I was fine, nothing was wrong with me. Perfectly healthy.
Days go by with me staring out the window of my hospital room. I've never went anywhere else. Images. Images were everywhere if I moved. I didn't sleep nor did I eat much food. Images of the horrifying scene still in my mind. Even in my dreams I could not escape them. I haven't had a peaceful sleep for months now. Everyone was worrying. But I didn't pay them any attention, not even the cause of my nightmares. It wasn't him I was scared of, no it was me. I was scared of myself, it's because of me that . . .
. . .
They know. They know what I know. I could see it in their eyes. They knew what happened. One night, while staring at the ceiling of the chipped paint, I heard screaming. It sounded angry. Two voices were screaming in rage. I wondered then if they would come into my room and throw me out the bed and into the street. Leaving me in the cold, in the dark. But nothing happened. They didn't come. The next day, they came and sat down. My eyes looking out the window never leaving the scene of blue.
They talked, yet words never reached me. It never reached my soul, my heart. Hassan was never allowed to come, they said the hospital was no place for children unless hurt. Though I guess the real reason was because Baba didn't want anyone seeing me in this pathetic state.
It was all for him. All for Baba, it was all so he would be proud. All so he would love me. All for nothing, nothing but hollowness.
"Amir agha." That voice was the only one that pierced through. My head turned slowly and looked at the boy in front of me. Hassan. . .? My memories were blurred, and unclear. My exhaustion caused me to mix reality and dreams together. I wasn't sure what was real and what was not. Somehow I knew who was in front of me yet at the same time I didn't.
". . . Yes?" The look on their faces were surprised. All were talking but their voices never reached mine. Ali had gotten the doctor, the father of the voice. Faces were in front of me all looked with anticipation and hope. I haven't spoken for months, not once did I respond to anyone before, but I responded to Hassan. The scene in front me were moving but there was no sound. I saw their mouths moving, their faces contorted in anger, fear, and anxiety. Suddenly they stopped. Ali was talking, he looked determined and sure, as my father and the doctor listened. He gently pushed Hassan forward, and gestured to him to speak.
"Amir agha?" Hassan had said hesitantly. My eyes locked on to his face, my head tilting a bit. . . Who?
". . . Yes. . .?" I said quietly. His face lit up with surprise, so did Baba's and the doctor's. I turned my head and looked out my window, seeing the vast blue sky. Empty. Just like me.
. . .
Another month have passed, Hassan was now visiting everyday with Baba and Ali. He talked about what was happening. I listened but the blank face I had never changed. They had me under constant surveillance now. A week ago, I had cut myself and it bleed. I still have the scar. On the inside of my wrist was a cut from my elbow and to my hand. I felt it. I felt the pain. . . Does that mean I'm still human? Does it mean I'm still alive even when my light has already been snuffed out?
. . .
A year has passed and nothing had changed. I am at home now. I couldn't stay at the hospital if they can't find a cure. Hassan was always with me. Never leaving my side. For some reason I can't remember anything before anymore. I no longer remember this house I lived in, nor do I remember the times I've spent with anyone. . . One day I just stopped remembering. I no longer remembered who I was.
. . .
Hassan set the washed the dishes while he watched Amir sit by a window. Hassan felt a heavy burden in his heart, why did this happen? Amir was not the one who got violated, he wasn't the one who had his pride torn, his body used. . . So why?! Why was he the one who had the blank look of emptiness? Why was he the one who felt the pain? Why wasn't it him instead? Hassan scrubbed the plate harder, his eyes watering. Why? Why wasn't it him? It should be him, not Amir. He should be the one who feels the pain. . . Yet Amir was the one who sat on a chair, his face blank and his eyes empty.
His thoughts continued, each thought filled with more grief and anguish. He was so deep into thought he didn't notice Amir move. He didn't notice until a hand stopped him scrubbing. Hassan looked at Amir in surprise. Eyes were still blank but there was a look of slight distress on Amir's face. Hassan could only look in surprise.
". . . Stop crying." Said Amir quietly, Hassan put a hand to his face and realized he had been crying. Tears were still running down. Hassan smiled.
"Yes Amir agha." Hassan said back shakily. The smile did not fade. It stayed until he told his father and Baba what had happened with Amir today.
He showed emotion.
. . .
Ali and Hassan searched frantically around the neighbourhood. Amir had been lost. Usually Hassan or Ali watched Amir until Baba came home but today they were both busy doing chores around the house that had been put off for too long. They had left Amir in his room, he usually never moved on his own accord. So they didn't worry about him leaving.
They were however, wrong. When Hassan had finished his work, he went to Amir's room and get him into the kitchen to eat. But when he had got there, no one sat in the chair by the window. He immediately told his father and both searched the house only to find he wasn't there. One of the old ladies outside had called out to them and told them she had seen Amir walk down the street. Both father and son then split up to find Amir.
Hassan ran up the hill searching for Amir. He looked around and stopped at the top of the hill. He looked from a higher view, his eyes sweeping the streets. Then he saw him.
Hassan saw Amir walking back.
"Amir agha!" He shouted, running towards Amir. He stopped in front of him, and looked over Amir to find he had bruises and a cut lip. "Amir agha what happened?" Hassan looked at Amor in worry, while gently pulling him back towards the house. Amir looked down in his arms. It was only then Hassan noticed the small baby bird. It's feathers were messy and it was heavily injured.
". . . They were throwing stones at it." Said Amir, gently cradling the bird. Hassan gazed at the small chick then back at Amir who stared at the bird. Hassan didn't know what was more surprising, Amir saving a bird or risk getting beaten. But before he could say anything, Amir kept walking towards the house. Looking as blank as usual, but Hassan couldn't help but feel that small spark of hope grow much bigger. . .
When they arrived at the house, Amir got treated. His wounds mostly consisted of bruising as he was pelted by stones. The only open wound was the cut on his lip. Next came the bird, not really knowing how to treat it Hassan had suggested to ask their neighbour a few doors down as he had a lot of experience with birds. Soon the chick was taken to their neighbour, lucky he seemed to have experience in treating birds. Soon the bird was fully treated and gave Hassan and Amir instructions how to take care of it. He had said the chick was a Hen Harrier.
. . .
Another year had passed, Amir seems to be getting better bit by bit, but he still wears the same emotionless mask. His actions began to speak more louder than his words. Though for the last few weeks Amir was more distant than usual. He would often spend long hours alone in his room, sometimes refusing to let anyone in.
Then one day Ali and Hassan entered anyway, worried. Their worries were right. Because their on the floor was Amir with a knife, craving something in his arm. Blood dripped from the wound, Amir didn't even react to them he just kept craving into his arms. Ali had immediately tried to grab the knife. Feeling the flesh of Amir's arm tear as he took it from Amir's hand was sickening. Hassan had already taken some clothes that were laying around to cover the bleeding wound. Hassan had then noticed other scars on his arm that weren't there before. Some were old, some new and still bleeding. . . Hassan then understood why Amir had begun to wear so many long sleeves despite the weather.
Luckily Baba had been home and got Amir into the hospital. They had cleaned him up and given a blood transfusion but it was the least of their worries.
The doctor had approached them and talked to Ali and Baba. He talked and showed them a picture. Baba, for the first time Hassan had seen, cried. Ali was no better but comforted his friend. The picture lay forgotten on the table, Hassan looked at it before rushing into the bathroom.
There in the picture was Amir's arm with the words 'monster' was Written in repeated all over his arm. Craved into his arms as if he wanted to remember. As if convincing himself he was a monster.
Hassan suddenly understood. He understood why Amir was doing this to himself. Hassan cried. Whether it was from happiness or sadness, was unknown.
Amir did care for Hassan. That was all that was in his head. All that repeated. Amir blamed himself for what happened in the alley.
. . .
Amir was under constant watch since then. Even sleeping. Not that he did. Hassan wondered if those distant eyes would ever have life in them again. One day when he was going to bed, he heard Baba and Ali talking.
"There's no way to get the treatment Amir needs here." Said Baba, his voice hoarse. "The only place where we can is in America. I'd have to sell everything I have just to get the money to get the treatment. The doctor said he needs therapy! That would take months! I can't stay in America for months, the doctor even said it could be years before Amir is even close to being the way he was before!" Hassan felt a weight in the pit of stomach. Was Amir not going to get better?