MERCY ME
Sometimes I think the voice isn't really there and I'm making it up just so I have something to keep me busy. But if I am, how do you get it to stop? How do you get it out of your head? You can't, is how. You can't because that's where it lives.
The voice is louder and clearer than ever as she holds me in her frail arms. But it feels right. It feels good. But at the same time I hate it. She's what I need and the voice knows it. But that's why I hate her. I think what I hate the most is that I spend my entire day praying for her to show up, knowing that it might only be a for a moment or two, knowing that she might not even say a word, and knowing that it will still be enough. I hate how much I need her. I hate that I crave her with every fiber of my being. She's forced me to rely on her. I hate her. I hate her so much.
The weak arms wrapped around me, I try to brush off. She finally lets go of me.
"Sakura" I try her name out on my lips. I decide I like the way it rolls off my tongue. The voice likes it too. The voice likes her arms around me. The voice likes the feeling of her skin on mine. The voice wants to know what her smooth skin would look like with bruises. The voice doesn't like one thing, though. The voice doesn't like the feeling she gives me. The voice thinks it makes me weak. I think the voice is wrong. Well, I want to. I like the feeling.
She is still looking away as if nothing had happened. Because perhaps, nothing had. As soon as she turned away from me she turned back. Then suddenly, she's smiling. It's her usual brisk, false smile. The smile that tries to put a brave face on her misery, but fails time and time again.
"Bye" she says walking toward the doorway, still smiling, still lying.
She's a liar like the rest of them and she plays the same games too. Like the ones the nurses play: Pretend You Don't Hate Him, like it's a show on TV. Or the ones the doctors play: Pretend He's Going To Get Better. Or the game my Father played: Pretend You Want Him To Live.
They're all acting and I'm supposed to believe them. I'm supposed to believe she's here to help me. But she's just playing Pretend You're Not Here To Kill Him. And that makes her the biggest fake of all. That's another thing I hate about her. This is when I stop hating and start killing. Only I can't. I get so caught up in her smile that I can't even move. Even though it's fake, even though it's not me she's smiling at. But it gives me this horribly heavy feeling in my chest, like I'm suffocating, like the air in my lungs is being squeezed out of me and at the same time being filled with smoke. But it's warm, like a fizzing forrest fire in my chest, like all the pinecones in the trees are whooshing up and as the flames dance higher and higher I feel like nothing's wrong. Like she's not a fake. Like nothing terrible is going to happen. But I know something will.
So I play a game. My own game. It's nice to play my own game. My game is called Pretend Nothing Bad Will Happen. It's not ver fun because sometimes I can't play it. And sometimes it doesn't work. That's when I play Pretend You Are Loved. I liked that game the best. It's just too bad I forgot how to play.
Sorry for long wait on the update and its short. It's hard to write long chapters for this fic. I hope you liked it anyway. Sorry again; I've been busy.
-Lauren