Open this FUCKING DOOR

Amalia I took the stars from our eyes and I made a map I knew that somehow I could find my way back The door- She takes another unsteady step toward that perfect rectangle of light, reaching, aching, yearning for all that waits on the other side. It would be so easy to just step through, slide her broken body into that promising cold and let her fear, her anxiety, her inadequacy die with her. Hasn't she come far enough, suffered long enough, wanted badly enough to be saved and save the world from herself? There is nothing for her, in this world. Her grandmother is gone. Her mother is gone. Her gods are gone. Another step. Why is it suddenly hard to move? Something is grabbing at her: she can feel the weight of it on her hips, her shoulders, her head. Gritting her teeth she struggles against it, pushing on toward the beautiful door, fury suddenly in her breast. How dare they try to keep her here, to bind her to this nothing place! To pull her back into this prison, when she has come so close to peace! A scream rips through her, howling, inhuman, but the hands that grip her do not yield. "Nani!" she cries, but her grandmother does not answer. The door is closing now, the red glow growing dim. In its place, starlight swirls, inky night interrupted by pinpoints of distant, unattainable light. It feels warm, hot even, as it envelops the girl, covers her eyes and fills her mouth. No! she sobs, but the cry is muted, muffled by the strangling night. It fills her lungs and she chokes upon it; it sears her veins like fire. She can feel it in her neurons, her muscles, her bones, aching, burning, a greater pain than she has ever known. She wants to scream but her voice is frozen; she wants to thrash but her body is bound. Tears well at the corners of her eyes. She does not want to be here, she does not want this, she had chosen-- Amalia gasps a shuddering breath as life makes her its captive once more. Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too So I stayed in the darkness with you