Apeiron: The Descent

I remember a time when I was free.

When I was loved for.

When I was cared for.

I remember a time when I was innocent…

It was before I lost my best friend. Before I lost him. I cried in my room for weeks. My heart was torn. I felt like I was dead. My father, if you can call him that, burst in my room one day, a look of repression and solemnity on his face.

“Juliet, he’s dead. You know that.”

I cried like a foolish child, no remorse for such shameless behavior. “No! That can’t be true!”

His words were like gravel to my broken heart. “Juliet, I said he’s dead.”

I lost it. I started screaming irrationally, loudly, foolishly. I could see my father covering his ears and moaning as if in agony. I was too upset to care. And then I felt a piercing pain across my face. My father slapped me on the cheek. That wouldn’t be the last time either. I felt shock and dismay sink into my bones.

Slowly, innocence faded.

I became psychotic. “Why? Why? Why? How? Why did you do this?! Why did you kill him?!”

My father, being such a sweet soul, grabbed my shoulders and told me, “Juliet, calm down.”

His touch felt like a fire which I could not withstand. I started struggling and screaming, “No! Don’t touch me!”

In response to my defiance he slapped me on the face again. And again. And again. Until I no longer spoke, no longer moved, and could no longer feel. My innocence started thawing as hatred seeped into my eyes.

How could this asshole? Wasn’t he supposed to be my father?

“I love you.” My dad told me, leaving the room.

Dejected, depressed, and empty, I laid back on my bed. Everything felt so useless and numb. I could barely stand it. Then I felt a presence. Distinct, and warm… but distant and unfamiliar.

Somehow my voice did not fail me as I spoke. “I can feel your presence.”

The air was still with silence. Yet I could still feel the presence. I could feel her presence. “I can’t see you, but I can Sense you.” I looked around as if I could spot the invisible entity. I couldn’t. “You’re close by. What do you want?”

A voice emerged from the darkness of my room. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

I sighed. “Neither do I.”

“Then… then maybe you should leave.” The entity declared.

I rolled over in shock. “What?”

The entity responded with an exclaimed, “Ow!” and suddenly the presence felt a little further from me. I looked at the floor. My voice felt hard with confusion and the yearning for something real. “You fell to the ground, didn’t you?”

“Maybe. But that’s beside the point: you shouldn’t let him treat you like that. Whoever he is.”

I could barely speak. “That man... he… he’s my father.”

“Then more reason to not allow that! It’s abuse!”

I felt raw with anger as I snapped at her. “You don’t understand! You just don’t understand!”

How could I leave my home?

“Maybe I don’t understand exactly what’s going on, or everything you are going through, but I do understand this: if it’s so miserable, this life, this house, like a living hell, I’d rather jump ship and face hell in my own way. Forget any consequences, I would rather live and die by my own creed than be subjected to someone else’s.”

Her words gave me hope. “You think so?”

I could feel confidence emanating from the strange woman’s voice. “I’m sure of it.

I didn’t know what to say. I was so lost in thought. Could I really find a better path?

“Juliet, it will be okay. I know it’s hard, but it will be okay.”

A smile came to my face. The hope inside me seemed to be growing. “My friend used to say that. He used to say that.”

I stood up and walked to the window. The moon was shining in the sky. Hope was shining. “But maybe you’re right.”

“Juliet?” The angel spoke.

“Maybe it will be okay, if I decide my own path. Forget the consequences; I refuse to stay in this hell.” In that moment, I decided to leave. And apparently, so did the presence, for it grew faint.

“That’s good. That’s really good. I wish you well Juliet.” The angel spoke to me.

I turned around. If only I could see my angel. “As I you. But I want to know, what is your name?”

“Jemma.” The angel told me. “My name is Jemma.”

Jemma… what a lovely name. “Nice name. Thank you. And goodbye.”

That night gave me hope. It gave me a reason to keep going. And then it crushed my spirit. What the angel said, what that Jemma character said, was all a lie. I don’t know who the hell she is, or why she knew me, knew my name, but all she said was worth nothing. Nothing today is as it was, and nothing will ever be the same. The hell that I live in today will probably be the hell I’ll have to endure for the rest of my life. Whatever shit Jemma thought she was trying to teach me, it was pure lies.

And from this, I employ a new philosophy. The greatest philosophy to exist.

I don’t care.