Amalia
she was afraid of heights
Somewhere far away, a starwhale is experiencing devastating pain.
"You don't understand." Amalia's voice is soft and expressionless as she continues to rub her barren wrist, dark eyes dull, heart rate slowing. "I don't want to remember. I want to die."
It's a big confession for the girl, yet she says it as though it is the simplest thing in the world- because if she looks too closely at the associated emotions she will shatter apart and lose herself. Exhaling a shaky breath, the girl continues to speak; her words are far less terrifying than her thoughts. "I've always wanted to die. I should have - did - that night, and when I woke up again it was..." She swallows hard, shaking her head.
After that, in her darkest days, she'd used the scars to remind herself that for whatever reason, the Gods had not wanted her to die that day. That she has a role to fulfil, a purpose, even if she doesn't know what it is.
That she has to keep trying, because the moment she stops, that darkness comes flooding back in, and she knows that one day she will drown within.
Eyes red and cheeks puffy, Amalia at last glances up at Loren, as though she has forgotten he was there at all. He is curled, wound, crying, small, and the baker blinks in near surprise. Is this what a broken person looks like- what she looks like? Are they just fractured reflections of each other, both working hard to drown out demons until their hearts and bodies finally break? "Why are you crying?" Her expression is guileless; there is no malice in her voice, no pity, no attempt at fixing him. She's laid herself bare for him, her not-friend. She is merely inviting him to do the same for her.
"You don't understand." Amalia's voice is soft and expressionless as she continues to rub her barren wrist, dark eyes dull, heart rate slowing. "I don't want to remember. I want to die."
It's a big confession for the girl, yet she says it as though it is the simplest thing in the world- because if she looks too closely at the associated emotions she will shatter apart and lose herself. Exhaling a shaky breath, the girl continues to speak; her words are far less terrifying than her thoughts. "I've always wanted to die. I should have - did - that night, and when I woke up again it was..." She swallows hard, shaking her head.
After that, in her darkest days, she'd used the scars to remind herself that for whatever reason, the Gods had not wanted her to die that day. That she has a role to fulfil, a purpose, even if she doesn't know what it is.
That she has to keep trying, because the moment she stops, that darkness comes flooding back in, and she knows that one day she will drown within.
Eyes red and cheeks puffy, Amalia at last glances up at Loren, as though she has forgotten he was there at all. He is curled, wound, crying, small, and the baker blinks in near surprise. Is this what a broken person looks like- what she looks like? Are they just fractured reflections of each other, both working hard to drown out demons until their hearts and bodies finally break? "Why are you crying?" Her expression is guileless; there is no malice in her voice, no pity, no attempt at fixing him. She's laid herself bare for him, her not-friend. She is merely inviting him to do the same for her.
but she was much more afraid
of never flying
