Aeon: (n.) In Gnosticism, one of a class of powers or beings conceived as emanating from the Supreme Being and performing various functions in the operations of the universe.
Her world had fallen apart. She couldn't comprehend much more than that. Her mind had gone into an explosive overload, until she was utterly and completely taken under all of the information and her brain had simply shut down. Everything had disappeared; not into light or into darkness, just gone.
It was the warmth she became aware of first. It was all around her, completely encompassing her body. Not an overwhelming heat, but soft and comfortable and calming. It was firmly wrapped around her, giving her little room to move even if she had wanted to, and it felt like its sole purpose in existence was to keep her held in place. Held together. To stop any more little pieces of her from slipping away into nothingness.
Awareness of her own body came next. She was sore, everywhere. It felt like she had gone through four triathlons and then been in an explosion, just for good measure. Her eyes, itching and burning, refused to open. Her body was curled in on itself, protectively, until she was tangled in a tight little ball in the midst of her cocoon of warmth. Her hands – shaking, she distantly noticed – were clenched around something, hard and soft and oh so warm, like that object was the only thing keeping her from drowning in a sea of her own body.
And it wasn't just her body that felt beaten and broken. It was inside too. Her lungs were like fire, spasming fire. Her stomach seemed to have twisted up into convoluted little knots, pouring its nauseating acids out through her body. Her brain felt like it had been crushed, vacuum sealed inside a container far too small, one edged in piercing spikes that tore at the inside of her skull and tried to kill her from the inside. And her heart, it felt like a hole had been blasted straight through her chest; a burning, searing, aching, agonising hole that left no room for anything but pain in its wake.
It was the voice that finally broke through the fog. Lost in the overpowering madness of her tangled body and tortured soul, she began to register a sound. Low and soothing, distant but growing ever closer the longer she focused on it. She couldn't place the noise at that moment, only that it made her feel good. Safe. She could feel the way it hummed against her body, through the warmth that surrounded her, and knew that it must belong to her protective shield. Several seconds – or was it hours, she couldn't be sure – later she came to the conclusion that it was a voice. A deep, soft, comforting voice that was luring her back from the world where nothing existed any longer.
Her name was the first word that she fully understood. For a long time she had just sat in her safe little haven and listened to the sound of the beautiful voice, washing over her and filling her with more warmth and numbing the aches. And then she heard it. Annie. That was her name, wasn't it? Yes, now that she thought about it, she was sure that name held significance to her. The voice had whispered it, gently, caringly. Not pleading or plaintive or even anxious, just calm. Understanding. Compassionate. Loving.
The words dissolved back into the hum, indistinct to her addled brain but still so comforting. It was some stretch of time later before she heard her name again, this time accompanied by other snatches of words. "It's okay, Annie… You're safe… I'm here… Just let it out…"
And let it out she did. Because she hurt, damn it. The burn in her eyes redoubled as she was claimed by another wave of tears. This was agony. She wanted nothing more than to retreat back into the blissful ignorance, the jaded denial that had been her life for the last few days. Had it been only days? That nothingness had seemed so unending, it felt like she must have lived there for years. But no, it had been only days since blood had stained her hands and light had left blue eyes.
She had convinced herself that she had accepted the truth, had admitted that her eyes had seen what they had seen and that that was all she needed. The next few days had been a blur of forced smiles and awkward pauses and a jumpiness that had caused her fair share of small accidents. But she had been indifferent, and it had been painless and safe in there.
Then he'd come to her. Confronted her, actually. It had started out gentle, coaxing, reasoning, but it had quickly escalated to anger. Anger that was masking the real emotion; fear. She had seen it in his gaze, in the flexed skin of his knuckles at his side. He was frightened even as he raised his voice, told her that she was being stupid and that pretending nothing was wrong would only get her killed. That she couldn't keep doing this, to herself and to him. That he couldn't lose her. Wouldn't stand by and let it happen. Not like this.
She had screamed, she remembered that much. The raw feeling in her throat was reminder enough of that part. She had screamed and raged and told him how he didn't know anything about it, and how it wasn't any of his business. She had thrown herself at him, pummelling his chest with her hands weakly, without conviction, and then she had collapsed into the security of his arms and her emotional maelstrom had dragged her under into that place of Gone.
And now, as her tears began to slowly fade and her breathing became less sporadic, she could distinguish the feelings more surely. The strong arms wrapped around her coiled body, the lap that she was settled into and the pressure of a cheek against the back of her head, the origin of the voice that was still humming to her gently, making soft shushing sounds. He was safety. He was comfort. He was peace. He was trust. He was her guardian angel. He was her best friend. He was her Auggie.
So she slipped back into the shell of her protection, knowing that until the moment she recovered, there would always be a shield to keep her warm and safe from the darkness.