I let the bile rise and fall as it pleases, choking all the while. I hold my own hair back. When I finally get a break my chest is heaving, I still can't breathe. Everything blurs together, not even the faint music in my headphones can bring me out of this now. I'm entirely sick. I've rotted from the inside out. With everything puked out, I'm a perfect shell of the girl they all love so much. They cannot realize that a single touch will turn her to dust. They will kill her without ever knowing how. She will simply be gone by their touch.
(a newer story about what it's like inside my head. I reread the old one and realized just how much things have changed, hence, this.)
When you open your eyes, you find yourself in a new and entirely familiar space. A waiting room. You are sat in one of the chairs spaced around the edge of the room. There are a few end tables between them, and in the front of the room beside the exit, a help desk. There's a monitor and a pen holder with some decorative pens, but nobody is there, and it doesn't seem like anyone is supposed to be.
There are large abstract paintings on the walls. You approach the one on the right side wall and study it for a moment. There are blurry circles overlapping each other, with ripples spreading out from them. It's quite colorful. It reminds you of your friends. Where could they be? Perhaps you should look for them.
Tearing your eyes away from the painting, you exit the waiting room. You find yourself in the endless hallway. But it has clearly undergone some renovations. Directly across the hall you see a new door. To the left you can distantly see the office window and door, beyond that, infinity. To the right, the hall goes on for a while, and then it gets dark. You'd have thought they would get that fixed.
You try the first door you saw, and it doesn't budge. You try to call out, and you hardly make a sound. It has been a while. You clear your throat and try again, "Hello?" You call as you knock on the door.
"What do you want, Cala?" You blink rapidly for a second, sort of unsure and shocked. It sounds like Her, but she sounds.. different. Defeated. Utterly exhausted. You settle into concern and knock louder.
"Not.. Cala..? Can you open the door?" You try the door again, just to check that it's really locked. It is. You never took Her as the locked door type. Then again, none of you have ever had a door to lock here. The office door didn't have one.
You hear shuffling inside the room and footsteps approaching, then a lock clicking. The door creaks open just enough for Her to peek through. You try to smile for Her. Her eyes light up when she realizes who's at her door, and the door swings open the rest of the way. Before you know it, Her arms are around you. Her hair is longer, unkempt. It doesn't matter, it's still Her. You hug Her back and take in the moment. This has all been so confusing, but Her is your anchor. You know Her, Her knows you. But you would quite like Her to explain what's happened, like Her always does.
Her let's go after what feels like just a moment but was probably actually a while, but keeps Her hands on your shoulders like Her does. "It has been too. Long. Seriously, like way too long. Things are so weird." You nod along. "When was the last time you were even here?" It wasn't meant to, but that hurts a little. You never mean to be gone. It's just in your nature.
And anyway, you can't remember when the last time you were here was. There are blurry memories of things and people that you think you should know but you cannot place any of it. Just trying to remember has your head spinning. You clutch your hands to your head and close your eyes.
"Woah, hey, it's okay! I'll just start from the beginning, alright?" Her takes your hands and gently lowers them from where they were, in position to start hitting yourself. "Come in, I'll tell you all about it." Her leads you into Her room, closing the door behind you, and you end up sitting in one of those little cushy chairs for toddlers. Her sits to your right, on Her bed.
You stare at your hands, fidgeting a bit. You don't really like being in another unfamiliar space, plus you feel like you're intruding on Her space. And it is, clearly, Hers. There are posters all over the walls, and drawings, lots of drawings. It's all just so.. Her. So completely Her that it makes you smile, truly, and the discomfort washes away.
You look to your right and realize that Her has been watching you this whole time. That is very embarrassing. You look back down and feel your face heat up. Her giggles, then sighs in that content sort of way. "I missed you." Her says. Very much not helping. What, Her missed you being awkward and embarrassed? Well, yes. I mean, what else do you do?
You suddenly want to stop thinking about yourself. You clear your throat again before you speak, having learned your lesson, "So, what did I miss?"
"Ah, right. Well, the kid got really mature, really fast. She basically runs shit now. Not that it didn't before, but, like, they actually own the place. Matty's less of an argumentative asshole, mostly just uses it to protect the vessel from all that outer pressure. I hear that it's getting bad out there again, but I try not to get too involved. Oh, uh, also..." Her hesitates. You can't even begin to imagine what's giving her pause. "Well, I think they're, uhm. Dating, sort of?"
You shake your head slightly. What does that mean?
"Don't look at me like that! I don't even really know, okay? I'm just trying to give you all the information that I have. Ask them about it if you wanna know more!" Her hands raise defensively. You guess you'll have to find them and ask about this. Maybe Her knows something, you can ask before you leave. But for the moment you have a more pressing question for Her.
"When I knocked on the door, you thought I was someone else at first. Someone called Cala? I don't think I know them." You inquire.
Her nods, "Right! Cala, short for Calathea. That's what the cat goes by now. And good on her for finally getting a real name, I always thought it was messed up that it had us calling it 'the child' or 'the cat'. Like they didn't value themselves enough to pick a name, or something." You nod. It's a nice name.
You run through the inhabitants you know of. Calathea, the cat, currently in charge. Matty, the pink dog with the heart theme, defender of the vessel? Her, your best friend, appears to be isolating Herself. And you, The Narrator. Hm. Should you have a name now too? Are you.. what was it Her said, are you not valuing yourself? Have you outgrown your role here? Could you just Be someone? No, not yet, you think.
As if Her could read your mind, Her backtracks, "oh, I didn't mean it like- I think your name is great. It was just weird for them, y'know?" Her hand reaches toward you, and you take it. You nod and smile at Her. You know. But maybe when you're ready, Her would love to help you pick a name. Just, not yet.
"Any other questions?" Her prompts. You think about it, but you probably have all the information Her can offer. You need to look for answers elsewhere.
"Do you know where to find the others?" You ask, though you have a feeling you already know, seeing as there is only one other place around here.
"The Office. I can't go with you."
You nod. Her squeezes your hand before you get up to leave. You will come back to Her. But neither of you can be sure of when. You'd like to think you'll be back after you question the others, but you could go away again after tonight. There's no way to know. So you hug Her tightly and you don't let go for a while. You think that one or both of you are crying. It all becomes sort of blurry. You hate goodbyes. Especially when it's Her.
But eventually you have to let go. And you do. And so does Her. And you wipe her eye softly, and you wipe your own eyes. And you leave. And Her door locks behind you. And you think you might be crying again. And you think the tile floor is getting wet with tears.
You stand there for a moment, probably crying, and you know that you will see Her again. That has to be enough. You proceed down the hall, towards the office.
It looks the same from the outside, which is almost comforting. You knock, clear your throat, and call out, "Hello?"
An office chair clattering, soft footsteps, and then the blinds move. Someone is peeking through at you. The door opens.
"Hel..lo..?" The cat on the other side greets you curiously. This must be Calathea, you think. Her tail swishes from side to side, keeping low and cautious. Their right eye is obscured by their hair. You hardly recognize them. They hardly recognize you.
Oddly, Matty rises from a beanbag on the far side of the room and seems excited to see you. He runs over and playfully pushes Calathea over to greet you. He extends a hand, you take it and he shakes it like he thinks you're someone impressive.
"Oh man, Kitty, do you realize how cool this is?" He starts, pointing at the handshake and looking intensely at Calathea. "This guy is basically a legend now. Or, like, someone in a statue, the way we always draw them!" He laughs at his own statement. One that kinda freaks you out. They draw me? You pull your hand back.
"I'm not a legend. I just haven't been around in a while." You hear how quiet and unconfident you come across as you say it, but to be fair, this whole situation just feels weird.
"Aw, don't say it like that. You sound like a distant family member who finally showed up to a reunion." He frowns. "I'm just kidding anyway, it's, uh, nice to see you around again." He waves his hand in a way that feels dismissive. Even more so when he turns around and returns to whatever it was he was doing before this.
Calathea watches him leave with eyes that would kill if they could. Once he settles, they return their focus to you. "Sorry. If it helps, he did mean that last part. That's why he had to leave right after he said it." That last bit sounds more bitter than the rest, like it's a pattern of his that shes grown sick of.
"Uh, that's okay." You mutter, "I just- I guess I was hoping you guys could help me, like, fill in the blanks from my time away?"
"Oh god, my memory is pretty shit so I may not be any help. But you can look through the files if you want." She suggests, moving aside to invite you in. It's mostly the same, with the addition of a pink beanbag chair in the far corner and a pink puppy resting in it. He waves to you as you enter. You wave back absentmindedly, still taking in the office. The bookshelf on the back wall looks different in a way you can't quite place. You remember that for later. There's only one song playing throughout the room, you don't recognize it. The monitors are still on. There are less files scattered around. You wonder who is responsible for the tidiness.
You shake your head to yourself and decide to focus on what you're here for. You head towards the files on the left wall, starting from the beginning. Calathea closes the door softly behind you and returns to her spot behind the desk. You can sense that it's still keeping an eye on you.
About a third of the way through the walls of files, you come across a locked filing cabinet. Curious, you decide to ask about it. "What is this one?" You point to the locked cabinet and direct your attention to Calathea.
"Ah, maybe just... Don't worry about that one." She doesn't look at you while she says this. Curiouser. You decide to drop it for now, but you will remember this.
After a while, Matty joins you in your search for information. Though, it's not going very well. All you've found so far are things you've heard before from Her, or things you were present for. Maybe the newer files are on the right wall, you think, maybe they go in chronological order. Regardless, you have committed to moving through the room left to right, so you will likely find what you need last. You sigh.
"Gettin' bored yet?" Matty asks, still flipping through a file.
"No. This is... Interesting. I just don't want to waste time."
"Is this a waste?"
You consider it. As much as you would rather be spending time with Her, you have to admit that this has been enlightening. You've found out more about Matty and Calathea's dynamic, you've found details Her must have forgotten in these files, and it's almost been fun, actually. You think that anything you enjoy must not be a waste of time.
"No. This is.. fun." You answer. He smiles at that.
"Good! You should hang out more." He shoves his shoulder into yours, a friendly gesture. A friend. That's nice, you think. You return your focus to the files with a newfound motivation and enjoyment for the activity.
"Wait! This feels new!" You exclaim, starting the chapter of this book over again. Matty looks over your shoulder, Calathea watches from where she sits on the desk while you two have been behind it, inspecting the right side wall. You were right, the newer stuff was over here.
The book talks about the Vessel moving house. The chapters leading up to this had been rather, well, depressing. But once the move is mentioned, the tone shifts entirely. There's hope, and excitement. You keep reading. The vessel expresses stress, but good stress, they insist. You recall the file on good stress. It's a favorite term of the Vessel, something they learned from an old therapist. The therapist had related it to when a show stresses you out, since there were no applicable situations within the Vessel's life at the time.
Directly after the move, things seem to change again. Dread. Fear. Sickness. They are locked in their bed most days, afraid of something they have yet to share with the reader. You feel compelled to keep reading.
Then, suddenly, Matty snaps the book closed and takes it from you. "How's about we skip the rest of this one?" He smiles at you, but it looks strained. You glance at Calathea, who is staring at the floor, then look to the monitors. They are flashing and glitching. There is a pop-up in the corner. You move closer to read it, but Calathea intervenes, shoving her hands in front of the screen.
"Hey!" It shouts. You back up and raise your hands. She stands up and ushers you and Matty out from behind the desk, taking back her spot behind the screens and muttering curses under their breath.
"Damn, sorry. Guess we're done for now." Matty shrugs. You sigh in defeat. There are clearly a lot of things that these two don't want you to find out. And so long as they're here, you won't even get a chance.
"Lavender" is in her room sewing. "Lavender" is such a sweet girl. "Lavender" is so thoughtful and independent. So much so that we need not look behind her! She is perfect as she is. So ignore the shadows that follow her around. The growling from deep within her throat when they speak about her. The horrors that engulf her at night. Ignore it all, and look at how lovely she is during the day.
My feelings bubble up, filling my intestines & coming up my throat. I cough, not realizing, and it all spews out of my mouth before I can stop it. It won't stop coming up, and it burns my throat as it does. My eyes are wet with uncontrollable tears. The taste is vile. The smell covers the room like a fog. My headphones don't cover the sound of coughing and retching between fountains of bile. My nose runs wildly, but I hardly have time to reach over to grab a tissue when it's all coming up like this. My whole face is wet and strained while I expel this anxious knot in my stomach. It hurts. So much.
I forgot how it felt to be clean. I forgot what I looked like when I'm taken care of.
They were right, my skin is beautiful. I wish I could stop littering it with scars and burns. I wish I could accept it truly and keep that fact with me and let it prevent the hurting sometimes. But I won't.
I can only know it in this moment. And that has to be okay.
She forgets the night that I almost called the police, something I don't even believe in, because I was so scared of him. He was pacing around the house, yelling because he couldn't sleep because we had my nephew over, his grandson. And because his grandson had a cough, because he was sick, none of us were allowed to feel safe. Because he was inconvenienced, we were made to feel like we were in danger, and in trouble.
She forgets how after he finally stopped yelling, how we were about to pack up and go to a hotel, but I insisted it wasn't fair that he get to have the apartment, our apartment, after what he did. I thought, and I had for a while now, that He should be the one forced to go to a hotel and cool off. Maybe think about what he's done.
But it never happened. And it never will. Because she forgets what he does. And I am the only one keeping score, because it is so much easier to forget. Because when you remember you become like me. But I would rather be miserable forever than let him get away with what he's done to our family. And someday, someday as soon as humanly possible, everyone will know, and I hope it kills him.
Everyone acts like Eve is crazy. Or they just outwardly say they think she is. And that's how I know you have not heard Her. But some of us have, and so we continue to listen to Her. And it is not crazy, rather, I find it to be the most sane thing in my life.
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