Drowning: Chapter 2
Triggered Memories
Pairings: none
Quatre's POV
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: don't own Gundam Wing or anything that comes from Gundam universe
Rosin smells like spice. I've noticed this. It's a heady, sharp scent. Every time I go to rosin my bow I take out the small cake of it and hold it up to my nose and breathe in. Sometimes when I look at it I get the urge to lick it. Just to see if it tastes how it smells. Is that strange? I guess so. But then again I've always been a bit strange.
My favorite music to play on the violin is Bach. Partitas. Sonatas. My favorite is the Ciaconna from Partita No. 2 in D minor. It's so powerful and yet hauntingly beautiful all at the same time.
I was called that once. Hauntingly beautiful. It was right before I left the hospital. The nurse touched my cheek with the back of her hand. There was sympathy and a little bit of pity in her eyes and she said those words: hauntingly beautiful.
I have never really considered myself all that beautiful. In fact, for an Arab, I am down-right strange looking. I used to hate the way I looked. Maybe I still do. I've heard that some teenagers cut themselves when they start thinking that way. My self-destructive weapon of choice was a brown magic marker. As a child I spent hours coloring on myself until my arms or legs were completely covered with sticky washable ink.
I have urges to lick rosin and use my skin as my own personal coloring book. By Allah, I'm weird. "A bit strange" doesn't even begin to cover it.
I haven't even touched on the freakiest part about me yet. Sometimes I just wander off. In my mind I mean. Some people use humor as a defense mechanism. I have extra-sensory perception. Don't laugh. It's not funny. Ok, maybe a little.
I've been empathic for as long as I can remember, which is quite far back. Most people don't, or won't understand what I can do. Some people have tried. By force. They…no. Don't start. Don't start Cat. Please…oh Allah. Don't start because after you do there's no turning back. Don't even think about it. Think about something else. Think about Bach and how hauntingly beautiful it is…
I was hauntingly beautiful. I was right before I left the hospital…Newtype holocaust is what they'll call it...Oh Allah I'm floating! I'm drifting! Stretching languid tendrils of my mind…
Father is there…drifting in and out of my naked subconscious. Holding my little hand in his large one as I lay in the sterile hospital bed, waiting for the doctors to come tell him his son was locked away from the world and toyed with like an animal...He can feel for others...He's smiling at me like I was his little boy again. I still am his little boy, but now he's not here to hold my head above the waves…
So Bach. Ya. He was pretty great. Heh.
I don't even know why I try to fool myself anymore. The episodes come more and more frequently now. Sometimes there are even so many as ten a day. It's hard for me to concentrate. They never last long, but I spend most of my days worrying until there are sick little knots in my stomach. Will one be triggered now? Or now? Or how about in the middle of a board meeting? Will that be a convenient time for you Mr. Winner?
I can feel them start to come. There's a heavy pressure in the back of my mind and everything disconnects. Sometimes I can pull myself back. But lately it's harder and harder to do. Like digging fingernails into a mountain of wet tissue paper. Other times I just let myself go. It's nice just to be able to go away for a little while.
My sisters worry of course. But there isn't anything they can do really. It's the job of parents to comfort their sick children. But my father is gone, and he was the only parent I ever had. My chest aches when I think about him. My stomach hurts and my chest aches and I just wish it would all go away.
Relena is visiting tomorrow. Ever the pacifist. She reminds me so much of what I used to be like. Of what I used to wish I could be for my children. She's checking up on the colony, making her rounds as she always does. I'll talk to her tomorrow. Not about my problems though. She has enough to worry about. I'll talk to her tomorrow. Maybe she knows where the other pilots are. Maybe they would…? No. Don't start. Please don't. It's too soon. It's too soon! It's too soon…
my brothers -in-arms and legs and hands and minds and souls aren't here
"Friendship improves happiness, and abates misery, by doubling our joys, and dividing our grief" 1
They won't let me drown. They can't. They are my friends, my comrades, my brothers. They'll be here soon and they won't let me drown.
Well there's chapter 2. A little short, but that's how it came out. What did people think? A review would be most appreciated.
Big thanks to Jurie-chan and Mlaine for the reviews.
-NostalgieMalaak
1 Quote by Joseph Addison