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+---- Thread: I Think I'm Dreaming Again ll Niaga Gnimaerd M'i Kniht I (/showthread.php?tid=12732)
I Think I'm Dreaming Again ll Niaga Gnimaerd M'i Kniht I - Jessie-ica Diaz - 06-06-2014
You're in a safe place.
Nothing can hurt you anymore, Jessie.
You're...
Safe.
How do you like this feeling? It's been a long time coming, what with all you've been through. I bet it feels good, knowing that now, you don't have to worry about anything.
At least...
For now.
Between the crippling paranoia and the constant reminders from the man that only I can see, whose name is definitely Winston despite any of his possible attempts to refute that, it's a surprise I'm able to get anything done at all. Or, at the very least, it would be if I ever did manage to get anything done at all. Instead, I'm sitting, knees tucked into my chest and arms wrapped tightly around my shins on the center of my bed in this cheap motel room. I don't remember when the last time I slept was, or what day it is even. My stomach growls loud enough to shut Winston up for the time being, and the sharp pains in my sides force me onto one side. The mask and gauze that I was wearing everywhere I went for, well um, I don't even remember how long it's been lays crumpled in a ball on the floor.
I take a deep breath in. The air feels sharp, slicing at the back of my throat and forcing me into a coughing fit. My grip around my shins weakens and my arms fall off to either side and my legs kick out. Either the air or the blood from my lips dripping onto my tongue feels warm, and tastes like copper. I continue to cough, covering my mouth with my closed fist. Underneath my fingernails, I see blood and skin from my lips that I clawed at before Winston came to visit me again.
Though I'm not looking at him right now, I know he's looking at me.
Watching my every move.
Waiting for me to give into my paranoia again.
Just to give me the same message.
I'm safe.
Yeah, right.
I look up at the ceiling. My fist falls down onto my chest though I still continue to cough. Spit particles fill the air and gracefully fall back onto my naked body. My other hand runs through my hair, accidentally pulling out a chunk of it in the process. Of course.
Jessie.
You're safe.
You can move on.
Move on. Yeah, right.
Let's see what I have going for me right now. First of all, I more than likely lost my job with the XWF, seeing as though I disappeared after losing a title. A title I had for months without defending on account of my partner (who also was in love with me; I don't think any specific personality factored into that) "leaving". I'm going to keep using that term because it keeps Kea from freaking out. I guess to her it insinuates that she'll be back at any point, I guess. Anyway, back to my job. Deserting after a title loss isn't the best way to make nice with management, especially when I've spent some time antagonizing them in the first place. Though, one of them, who also happens to be the step-sister of my, I guess fiance, has kept in contact with me even after I le-
You're safe, Jessie.
"Shut up, Winston." My voice comes out, cracking and gravelly as I try to sit up. The same gnawing pain in my gut that never went away stabs me in everywhere at once. I curl my arms around my stomach and lean forward. Scooting forward towards the foot of the bed, I finally get my feet onto the ground. The carpet's damp, water (or whatever it is) flows out of it and soaks my feet as I try to stand. I cringe. Hard.
So hard in fact, I stumble sideways and fall into the wall that Winston's leaning against. The skin folds on his drooping, old man face flop as his head turns to watch me hit the ground. Shaking his head disapprovingly, he sticks his hand out for me to get back up with. I decline and pull myself up to my feet with the corner of the wall that my forehead just so happened to bump into. Now, I have a vertical scar running down from the top of my forehead to the bridge of my nose.
One step at a time, Jessie.
I feel so weak.
It's sickening. I shake my head to snap myself out of this impromptu pity party, and for the effort lose another bit of my hair, along with the corpse of a spider, which hits the damp carpet with a squicky thud. I look down and gag. It would be vomit, had I any lunch to lose. When was the last time I ate, anyway? Too long, I know that much.
I close my eyes.
Just for a second.
You're safe now, Jessie. You don't have to worry anymore.
That's gotten to the point where I don't know whether or not he's trying to convince me or himself. Probably still me, but still. It's a nice thought to think, that somehow this frail, old, figment of my batshit insane imagination has somehow developed a conscience or something.
I don't know.
I open my eyes again.
I'm standing in front of a mirror.
Disheveled isn't a strong enough word for how shitty I look right now, but underneath all of that, I'm the same person Tigris made me.
My lips are bleeding, and blood's caked all across my face.
My eyes are drooping so heavily that it's a shock that my eyes are even open at all. I look like I haven't gotten any sleep in weeks, which isn't entirely inaccurate.
My hair's thin and brittle, with the orange coloring fading and the product that changed the color stuck in clumps all across. A few insects and arachnids have made their homes there, like the dead spider on the floor.
I'm emaciated.
I feel just about ready to collapse.
Jessie.
Listen to me.
Open your ears, and listen.
Open your mind, and you'll see that you are safe.
Open your ears.
And listen.
I am safe.
And nothing can hurt me.