Freefall
o18.
Liquid black darkness and an empty hole in his heart tell him that he is still slowly dying, in his mind at least, and still inside his acrid prison of a room. He wonders how many days it has been since the last time he has seen the glittering rays of sunlight, how many hours he has spent in this pit, withering away, how many agonizing minutes he has spent staring at the gray stone walls, counting all the holes that dared to mar its all but smooth surface. He blinks past the darkness a few times, trying to get a feel for just where exactly he’d fallen asleep the night before…or, was it the next morning? Maybe it had been actually been a few days that had passed since he had fallen asleep. He couldn’t tell. The only sign of days passing was the occasional distant gongs of a dinner bell, signaling that the attendants were to serve the patients food now, much to their utter displeasure. He sighs dishearteningly, pulls himself to an upright position.
He hadn’t had any nightmares last night; there were no voices to be heard at all: mocking him, eating away at his mind like ravenous vultures that had just found a new carcass. He didn’t once think about her, his plague, since yesterday, at the end of his talk with Jesse. She hadn’t tormented him through all hours of the night. She hadn’t tempted him with things he would later regret: no self inflicted pain had even thought about crossing his mind. But he still hadn’t slept. Because without all the voices, and without all the nightmares and painful remembrances, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had tried to sleep, but there was nothing there that he was trying to escape by closing his eyes. There was nothing to lose himself in. There was no rest for the weary, even when everything had died away. He recalled that somewhere during the night, he’d cried out, trying to get them to come back, pleading with nothingness, if only to sleep for at least a minute or two.
He had missed them, in a way. He didn’t know what to do when there was nothing left to run from. Could he ever be a normal boy, keeping this in mind? He wasn’t sure, of anything really, but most of all this. Aniston would try his best to fix him, but Ryan knew, deep down, that he couldn’t ever let go completely. Ryan could never be okay. It was impossible. He pulls his hand across his face, unaware that he had been crying. Pushing the feelings of loss and remorse back down, he lays once more on the cold concrete and waits for the dinner bell to tell him that maybe he’s still alive after all, even if all hope had left him.
He hadn’t had any nightmares last night; there were no voices to be heard at all: mocking him, eating away at his mind like ravenous vultures that had just found a new carcass. He didn’t once think about her, his plague, since yesterday, at the end of his talk with Jesse. She hadn’t tormented him through all hours of the night. She hadn’t tempted him with things he would later regret: no self inflicted pain had even thought about crossing his mind. But he still hadn’t slept. Because without all the voices, and without all the nightmares and painful remembrances, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had tried to sleep, but there was nothing there that he was trying to escape by closing his eyes. There was nothing to lose himself in. There was no rest for the weary, even when everything had died away. He recalled that somewhere during the night, he’d cried out, trying to get them to come back, pleading with nothingness, if only to sleep for at least a minute or two.
He had missed them, in a way. He didn’t know what to do when there was nothing left to run from. Could he ever be a normal boy, keeping this in mind? He wasn’t sure, of anything really, but most of all this. Aniston would try his best to fix him, but Ryan knew, deep down, that he couldn’t ever let go completely. Ryan could never be okay. It was impossible. He pulls his hand across his face, unaware that he had been crying. Pushing the feelings of loss and remorse back down, he lays once more on the cold concrete and waits for the dinner bell to tell him that maybe he’s still alive after all, even if all hope had left him.