Water in the Bloodstream

Mother, Father, Brother and I; Mother, Brother and I; Brother and I; Just I.

A table for four now a gaping piece of oak. Warm meals mean nothing when there isn’t a soul who cares. A dining table is useless when there is no one to dine with.

I want-- no, I wanted to tell them that I miss them but all I tell them is how they pull me down, how their lifeless bodies and soulless eyes anchor me to the bottom of the ocean. Forever drowning, suffocating. Their words can never leave my mind, a broken record of ‘Were we not worth saving?’ ‘I told you to get your head out of the clouds and pay attention.’

I close my eyes and choke on wet lungs.

I dream of lush fields of green, the sun kissing my skin and breathing in fresh air. There’s not a drop of water in sight, just me and the endless greens of nature. The grass is soft beneath my feet, I could grow wings and fly and soar across the sky. But even in dreams my feet are glued to the ground. I lay back into my bed of grass and feel myself fall…

The grass pulls away and I’m left falling down a rabbit hole, back into the darkness I go. No longer can I confide in the natural beauties of the world for they too cannot forgive the pure sins of my actions. Further and further I fall beneath earth’s service to the burning place which I can only call my home.

I open my eyes and choke on wet lungs.

It’s still gaping at me, the dining table. Reminding me of warm embraces and warmer smiles. Comforting words to soothe the wavering heart of a child. A child who’d slip her vegetables onto her brother’s plate and steal his snacks when he’s not looking. A child who never had to worry about being alone, rejected or anything at all.

That child should never have grown up. Never should have strayed to chase her dreams. Never should have let her family fall beneath the surface. But they reside in death’s other kingdom, not the fiery chasms of which my soul lies. I did not fall victim to the blade, but they did and I let it happen…

Regret. Guilt. Haunted. None of them would go away. Not for me. Never me. Who could ever forgive their own kin for not being able to save the souls who raised them? I deserve every ounce of every nightmare, of every shadow that snakes towards me, of every wave that threatens to take me under.

I want to breathe but I can’t.

I’m drowning.

I close my eyes and choke on wet lungs.

I can’t open my eyes. Anchored to the bottom of the ocean. Water breaking through the seams of my eyelids, prying them open. Burning. Stinging. Everything hurts, aches. It’s cold but the pain burns. All I see are the dull, soulless eyes of my family. I see mine in theirs slowly fading, mirroring theirs.

My eyes are open and choke on wet lungs.