Nothing but the soft hum from the tv, interrupted by a distant cry a handful of times, had surrounded the pair for most of the night. Though Alaska had not noticed the silence in the air, utterly oblivious to how not even a mere word had been uttered between them in hours. But this state of detachment to her surroundings was nothing new to Alaska, she had been struggling for awhile now with her concentration. It was almost as if she was lost, constantly lingering in a land that lay half way between reality and the depths of her quickly darkening thoughts. As though the young woman was suffering from a lack of connection to the real world. But the sound of Hunter’s voice so close to her began to slowly bring her further from her mind that was always so loud, always twisting and turning and never leaving her be, and back into the almost soundless room.
Eventually, Alaska’s eyes flicked in her husbands direction, but it was almost as though she was looking through him - or as if, for only a moment, she did not recognize him. Then after a minute or so brown orbs were focusing, becoming familiar with the face in front of her, and she was whispering “I don’t feel like myself.” Though, that wasn’t completely true, she did feel like herself, just not the self she had been for the past few years. Not the self that was content, the one she had grown to like. Rather, she felt like her ten year old self, crying and screaming and begging for her sister. For her father. Or the sixteen year old, who would climb through a boys window each night, drunk and disgusted, trying so desperately to wrap herself up in him until she could no longer feel all of their hands, all of her loneliness. Or the nineteen year old, watching her newborn baby fight for her life. Or the twenty year old, attending her best friends funeral. Destroying each relationship she had clung so tightly to. Losing the man she loved, over and over. Being told she was dying. And all of things, all of those versions of herself, had one thing in common; darkness. It had sat on her shoulder, held her hand, smothered her. A darkness that had followed her round since she could remember, one she had become so sure she had shook off, had becoming crawling back. Seeping through the cracks in the ceiling and beneath the doors, covering her, drowning her. Now, however, she was left without the only mechanisms she had ever used to deal with - the partying, the alcohol, the sex. Alaska was defenseless, almost helpless, to this sadness she felt. And it was pulling her out of bed each night, nauseating her, leaving her irritable, exhausted, terrified.
“I just.. I feel so... so empty,” the words felt wrong to even think, like acid in her mouth and as they dripped out she was terrified they would burn through Hunter too, “I can’t explain it.” She didn’t want to explain it. The bits and pieces she had explained to her midwife had resulted in the word ‘post-natal depression’ floating about, to which she had zoned out, refusing to even entertain the idea. How could she possibly be depressed? Against all odds, she had married the man she had spent so long fighting for. They had made it. And with their marriage, came their miracle, their little Jacob. And Lacey’s laughter still made Alaska’s heart flutter as much as it had done the first time she heard it. She had everything she ever wanted, she should not be unhappy. “It’s just always so dark. I shouldn’t feel like this. I don’t want to feel like this.” Nervous fingers fiddled with the wedding ring upon her finger, worried to say any more. “Why don’t I feel like I belong here?” she shook her head, unable to look Hunter in the eye, “It all feels so distant, so foreign. You feel so foreign. It doesn’t make sense.. I don’t make sense any more.”
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