A/N: Thanks for the encouraging reviews guys. I've now got about two more chapters after this done but this one for me stands out as my favourite. Anonymous - am I underestimating you as a fan? You keep this amount of reviews up and I'll be at 100 in no time! I really appreciate it lol.
Psychosis: Revelations
Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Each word resonates the rhythm of my feet as they pound the sidewalk. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. I can run faster. I can push harder. I can be better.
My clothes feel heavy and my sticky skin is hot and horrible. I tied my hair back into a ponytail but strands of it are tumbling down my cheeks and into my face, though I continually brush it behind my ears. People I pass stare at me as I run, clenched fists held just in front of my body, arms bent, breath bursting out of me, my feet slapping against the wet ground, hair plastered to my head. They peer out from under their umbrellas at the crazy woman out wearing rags in the storm.
I'm wearing shorts and a cropped top. The cold doesn't bother me. The rain doesn't bother me. The wind doesn't bother me. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. They may not accept me. I may not accept me. But I will, as soon as I get rid of this gut and this unattractiveness that's followed me all my life. Just run and don't eat and lose weight and be beautiful.
The last man who ever told me I was beautiful was drunk at the time. I think that says a lot about me. And because of those few words, that tiny compliment, yes, I slept with him. Am I a sucker or what? One night stand. One, that's me. I'm just a lost soul aren't I? Floating around, unsure of anything in my life, no relationships, no friends, I am one. Alone. Night, yes, admittedly that's my favourite time of day. When it's dark and people can't see me, can't see my body, my looks, they can't see my vulnerability. And I stand alone, though I'd rather crouch into the corner.
Why do so many dogs look so sad? Sure they act happy and perky and cheery all the time, but if you ever catch them when they're alone, or thinking that no one's looking, their facial expressions are so much sadder than what you'd expect. They look desolate, depressed, undignified.
Once an abusive ex-boyfriend tied a dog collar and leash around my neck and proceeded to sexually assault me for what felt like the entire night but couldn't have been more than an hour or two. Every time I defied him or tried to get away, he'd pull on the leash and choke me from behind. Even when I complied he'd do it at intervals, just to show me who's boss.
I'd like to blame him for all that's wrong with me today. I'd like to blame a lot of things for how wrecked as a person I am. But deep down I know this all rests on me. It wasn't Jerry who beat up my sister Phoebe. It was me. Jerry is just a ghost from my past who I use to help alleviate my own self-loathing.
Which can't go on for much longer. It can't go on for much longer before my mind turns in on itself and folds over, suffocating me in my revelation that nobody else is to blame for what I've become but me. Logic tells me all of these facts already, but I still don't properly believe it. My natural instinct is to hide from the hurting, and that's what I still automatically do. It's when I come out of hiding that will be the moment of truth.
I can see my stomach when I look down, my ragged top covering my torso and hangs over one shoulder. The wind would ruffle it to no end if the rain hadn't already glued it to my skin. The material's a light pink, but the water has turned it red. The shorts which are also clinging to my thighs were a light green, now dyed dark. I look quite radical, a grown woman, jogging in the rain in the middle of winter. It's been particularly cold this year, almost impossibly so. I wonder if it's a sign of some sort, a warning. The times may be cold, but there is colder up ahead. The worst is yet to happen.
Checking my rain-spattered watch, I slow down, wheezing and panting in air. My lungs, heart, chest, everything inside hurts and screams at me to stop. Eventually I do and lean slightly forward in order to help the cool air rush in and out of my body with more ease. I've been going for about twenty-five minutes at full pelt. Placing my hands on my hips, I lean right back and point my face into the sky, into the rain, and squeeze my eyes shut against the barrage of tiny wet bullets that hit my face. It's a very heavy rainstorm. It hurts my tenderised skin. I feel as if I deserve it. No - I know I deserve it.
I used to be able to run a six-minute mile. My location and calculations tell me I've come about three miles from my home. That's just over eight minutes per mile. Not too shabby, though I grimace at the knowledge that I haven't exercised much of late, and today was only because I pushed myself so hard. Tomorrow my body will take it's revenge on me. I'll force myself into movement despite the pain.
- You deserve the pain.
- I deserve the pain.
- You need this pain.
- I need this pain.
I begin my torture again.
Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. This will work. I'll get thin and beautiful and a man will fall in love with me and Piper will accept me and I'll be happy.
For the last half hour I'd forgotten about Piper's existence. Sometimes it's better that way. The last year of my life has been the final straw. I'd been screwed up before but this was just the push I needed to get me right over the edge. When I discovered my sisters I thought I'd finally got everything I'd ever dreamed of. I hoped that my perfect life was about to commence. That all the toils of the old Paige were a thing of the past, I'd finally get to be normal.
Even the witch thing didn't faze me that much. I've always had a degree of supernatural eccentricity to me, I'd embraced it long before becoming Charmed. It wasn't about being normal as others perceived it. It was about being normal for me. Being normal in my life, my thoughts, my relationships.
Moments pass as I listen to my sneakers pounding heavily against the road. I'm running out of breath faster now, and the stitch in my side is showing no signs of dissolving or even relenting, no matter how much I tense up or slow down. Maybe I should just orb home. Yes - I'll orb onto my bed and just fall right asleep. That's what I'll do.
My pace slows as I concentrate on my body separating into tiny particles and relocating back at my loft apartment. In anticipation of flopping onto my bed, I start to lean forward and close my eyes, gravity soon taking over and pulling me down. I realise just before I hit the ground that my powers are gone. If this was the Hitchhiker's Guide, I'd be flying by now.
But it's not, and now I have approximitely point zero-one of a second to save myself.
I feel my nose break upon impact of the hard, concrete ground. A loud thudding sound permeates my hearing, quietly at first, as if it's been put into slow motion, then building up into a resonant echo through my head. Immediately I can taste blood in my mouth as it runs down the tube connecting my nose to my throat and over my tongue. My left eye pulses agonisingly and my front teeth feel as if they're vibrating from behind my lip which has been split open from the pressure of so much sudden weight falling upon it.
Unexpected.
A low cry comes from my mouth and when I roll over onto my back my hands instinctively rush up to my throbbing nose, burning from continual waves of pain storming over it. The rain washes the blood off me and mixes it with the loose hair.
I'm alone at night in the rain in the dark.
I've messed up my face with one mistake. I've ruined myself even more. But I'm over the pain now, it's softening to a quieter yet consistent beating which feels like my entire face is burning. The pelting rain emphasises how tender it is but also cools me down. It's bittersweet.
Slowly I get up and I head home. I walk past a group of two couples. One of them makes a horrified noise when they see my face glowing in the streetlights. I must look pretty bad.
- Get over it Paige. It was meant to happen. You have to learn that you'll never be accepted, normal, loved. You'll never be happy. Now go, you've still got three miles to get home. Get a move on!
Yes. I'll keep going. I'll keep going until I stop.
My aching legs begin to press me for speed and I give in, starting to run once more. The jerking of my body makes blood drip from my nose faster. It's nothing. If anything, it's affirmation. This sweet pain is what I need.
Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder.
Be better.
Psychosis: Revelations
Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Each word resonates the rhythm of my feet as they pound the sidewalk. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. I can run faster. I can push harder. I can be better.
My clothes feel heavy and my sticky skin is hot and horrible. I tied my hair back into a ponytail but strands of it are tumbling down my cheeks and into my face, though I continually brush it behind my ears. People I pass stare at me as I run, clenched fists held just in front of my body, arms bent, breath bursting out of me, my feet slapping against the wet ground, hair plastered to my head. They peer out from under their umbrellas at the crazy woman out wearing rags in the storm.
I'm wearing shorts and a cropped top. The cold doesn't bother me. The rain doesn't bother me. The wind doesn't bother me. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. They may not accept me. I may not accept me. But I will, as soon as I get rid of this gut and this unattractiveness that's followed me all my life. Just run and don't eat and lose weight and be beautiful.
The last man who ever told me I was beautiful was drunk at the time. I think that says a lot about me. And because of those few words, that tiny compliment, yes, I slept with him. Am I a sucker or what? One night stand. One, that's me. I'm just a lost soul aren't I? Floating around, unsure of anything in my life, no relationships, no friends, I am one. Alone. Night, yes, admittedly that's my favourite time of day. When it's dark and people can't see me, can't see my body, my looks, they can't see my vulnerability. And I stand alone, though I'd rather crouch into the corner.
Why do so many dogs look so sad? Sure they act happy and perky and cheery all the time, but if you ever catch them when they're alone, or thinking that no one's looking, their facial expressions are so much sadder than what you'd expect. They look desolate, depressed, undignified.
Once an abusive ex-boyfriend tied a dog collar and leash around my neck and proceeded to sexually assault me for what felt like the entire night but couldn't have been more than an hour or two. Every time I defied him or tried to get away, he'd pull on the leash and choke me from behind. Even when I complied he'd do it at intervals, just to show me who's boss.
I'd like to blame him for all that's wrong with me today. I'd like to blame a lot of things for how wrecked as a person I am. But deep down I know this all rests on me. It wasn't Jerry who beat up my sister Phoebe. It was me. Jerry is just a ghost from my past who I use to help alleviate my own self-loathing.
Which can't go on for much longer. It can't go on for much longer before my mind turns in on itself and folds over, suffocating me in my revelation that nobody else is to blame for what I've become but me. Logic tells me all of these facts already, but I still don't properly believe it. My natural instinct is to hide from the hurting, and that's what I still automatically do. It's when I come out of hiding that will be the moment of truth.
I can see my stomach when I look down, my ragged top covering my torso and hangs over one shoulder. The wind would ruffle it to no end if the rain hadn't already glued it to my skin. The material's a light pink, but the water has turned it red. The shorts which are also clinging to my thighs were a light green, now dyed dark. I look quite radical, a grown woman, jogging in the rain in the middle of winter. It's been particularly cold this year, almost impossibly so. I wonder if it's a sign of some sort, a warning. The times may be cold, but there is colder up ahead. The worst is yet to happen.
Checking my rain-spattered watch, I slow down, wheezing and panting in air. My lungs, heart, chest, everything inside hurts and screams at me to stop. Eventually I do and lean slightly forward in order to help the cool air rush in and out of my body with more ease. I've been going for about twenty-five minutes at full pelt. Placing my hands on my hips, I lean right back and point my face into the sky, into the rain, and squeeze my eyes shut against the barrage of tiny wet bullets that hit my face. It's a very heavy rainstorm. It hurts my tenderised skin. I feel as if I deserve it. No - I know I deserve it.
I used to be able to run a six-minute mile. My location and calculations tell me I've come about three miles from my home. That's just over eight minutes per mile. Not too shabby, though I grimace at the knowledge that I haven't exercised much of late, and today was only because I pushed myself so hard. Tomorrow my body will take it's revenge on me. I'll force myself into movement despite the pain.
- You deserve the pain.
- I deserve the pain.
- You need this pain.
- I need this pain.
I begin my torture again.
Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder. Be better. This will work. I'll get thin and beautiful and a man will fall in love with me and Piper will accept me and I'll be happy.
For the last half hour I'd forgotten about Piper's existence. Sometimes it's better that way. The last year of my life has been the final straw. I'd been screwed up before but this was just the push I needed to get me right over the edge. When I discovered my sisters I thought I'd finally got everything I'd ever dreamed of. I hoped that my perfect life was about to commence. That all the toils of the old Paige were a thing of the past, I'd finally get to be normal.
Even the witch thing didn't faze me that much. I've always had a degree of supernatural eccentricity to me, I'd embraced it long before becoming Charmed. It wasn't about being normal as others perceived it. It was about being normal for me. Being normal in my life, my thoughts, my relationships.
Moments pass as I listen to my sneakers pounding heavily against the road. I'm running out of breath faster now, and the stitch in my side is showing no signs of dissolving or even relenting, no matter how much I tense up or slow down. Maybe I should just orb home. Yes - I'll orb onto my bed and just fall right asleep. That's what I'll do.
My pace slows as I concentrate on my body separating into tiny particles and relocating back at my loft apartment. In anticipation of flopping onto my bed, I start to lean forward and close my eyes, gravity soon taking over and pulling me down. I realise just before I hit the ground that my powers are gone. If this was the Hitchhiker's Guide, I'd be flying by now.
But it's not, and now I have approximitely point zero-one of a second to save myself.
I feel my nose break upon impact of the hard, concrete ground. A loud thudding sound permeates my hearing, quietly at first, as if it's been put into slow motion, then building up into a resonant echo through my head. Immediately I can taste blood in my mouth as it runs down the tube connecting my nose to my throat and over my tongue. My left eye pulses agonisingly and my front teeth feel as if they're vibrating from behind my lip which has been split open from the pressure of so much sudden weight falling upon it.
Unexpected.
A low cry comes from my mouth and when I roll over onto my back my hands instinctively rush up to my throbbing nose, burning from continual waves of pain storming over it. The rain washes the blood off me and mixes it with the loose hair.
I'm alone at night in the rain in the dark.
I've messed up my face with one mistake. I've ruined myself even more. But I'm over the pain now, it's softening to a quieter yet consistent beating which feels like my entire face is burning. The pelting rain emphasises how tender it is but also cools me down. It's bittersweet.
Slowly I get up and I head home. I walk past a group of two couples. One of them makes a horrified noise when they see my face glowing in the streetlights. I must look pretty bad.
- Get over it Paige. It was meant to happen. You have to learn that you'll never be accepted, normal, loved. You'll never be happy. Now go, you've still got three miles to get home. Get a move on!
Yes. I'll keep going. I'll keep going until I stop.
My aching legs begin to press me for speed and I give in, starting to run once more. The jerking of my body makes blood drip from my nose faster. It's nothing. If anything, it's affirmation. This sweet pain is what I need.
Run faster. Push harder. Be better. Run faster. Push harder.
Be better.