THE ANONYMITY OF BEING
36. The Past
"Honey, are you all right?" Renee asked, brushing her daughter's hair. "Something you'd like to talk about?"
Bella's lips remained sealed, even when she felt the force of the universe pushing against her flesh, protesting from the inside and yearning for the need to be heard. She shrouded her troubles as she wondered to herself- when did I start keeping things from Renee? Although, her mind screamed at her with appropriate justifications, she started to question the fallacy of her heart.
Whether it was through the whims of coincidence or the never-ending insanity she was driven towards, Something ticked in her. Perhaps, it was the effect of her mother's gentle touch on her scalp or the soothing love that had cocooned her entire existence. She wanted to stand- just for herself. She didn't want other people's leery glances or her own insufficiency obstructing her view.
"Have you ever been in a dead-end?" Bella asked. "A situation that you can't run away from."
Renee's hands stopped moving as she processed her daughter's words. It was a generic question but the exigency for a solution glowed bright red. She wondered if Bella would expand on her conundrum. However, that thought was proved wrong when her daughter reverted to her deafening silence as minutes ate them up.
"Every situation is different," Renee replied. "But there's always a way to beat the problem, sweetheart. You just have to search hard enough."
"What do you mean?" Bella whispered. There was nothing left for her to search. She couldn't afford the expense of a new oxygen tank when it was of certainty that she would only waste it... drowning and drowning after conducting full retrospects of the events from that night. There was no way out for her. It was contagious thoughts on repeat.
"Well, firstly, you shouldn't panic. Try to remain calm," Renee explained softly.
The firmness in her voice could not be converted into equivalent units to measure Bella's despair. Silence was the raw panic she couldn't escape from. It was the internal suffering she'd been condemned to, infinitely. So she thought to herself. Is it too late to remain calm? Has the panic completely devoured me?
"Then, you analyze the problem and figure out what can be changed and what can't be," Renee said. "Maybe, it's your attitude. Maybe, it's your tactic."
Bella's attitude had been transformed into the remnants of a battlefield, filled with the putrid smell of disease. They ate away at the rotting flesh of her brain whilst regurgitating the most unwanted segments. Irrationality was weighing out, discarding her tactics into a dying field of poppies. Its cerise petals would bear a lifelong scar of red ink.
"You stay strong... and confront the problem."
Confront
The
Problem
In her deadly vault, where a stifled anger began to flourish, she knew escape was futility's right-hand man. But perhaps, she could do something to save others from the same death of happiness. Perhaps... she could still try to save herself- one last time. She would leave her fate to rest in the time-stopping motion of a coin flip. She was the sacrificial lamb attempting her last chance of redemption.
The sensibleness that had once been engraved in Bella Swan denatured in the heat of her mind, crumbling into smithereens of desperation. The mountainous devastation stood before her, declining her the chance to consult reason. She didn't have much left. Only the residue of bravery that her mother had given her as a young girl. She was told to treasure her strength- for when the time would come, she would know what to do.
In the traumatic aftermath of her ordeal, the fuliginous fog didn't lift, refusing to shed light on the dangers of her thoughts. Drowned in the stupor of her thriving depression, she made a choice for herself. It was flawed... it was unblemished. She made a choice for bravery. She made a choice for the victim.
.
.
.