Whumptober Day 1 - Shaky Hands
I could feel my hands shaking as I gazed down at the illuminated screen. I remember feeling cold, tired, awake, all at once. I felt ready to burst into a thousand pieces like the shell of a wartime grenade.
It was those three words at the end of a small passage, just those three words. I remember the words repeating in my head, a cacophony of words and emotions. Lier, I swore, I promised you, I gave everything, I trusted you. All of this, yet vividly I remember my hands. Frozen to the tips and trembling. Like they were desperate to reach out and grab onto something; anything.
It took every ounce of my free will to not do something. To not run, to not throw my phone across the concrete, to not scream and fall to my knees.
I knew going in that it was risky. I knew I'd fall hard and fast into that dark ink-like cave of emotions, but that didn't seem to matter. It was as if the only thing I saw was a single tiny star in the middle of a black hole. It's not like it stopped me, I was blinded. For some reason, all my walls shatter and I gave blind faith, something that I avoid at all costs.
Then the tears fell. One after another, soon I could feel arms around me. I didn't pay attention to them. I might have wrapped my arms around them in return, I might have stayed still and sobbed. Soon I ran. I ran after I knew they had left. I ran and put everything down. I showed those that mattered, my hands unstable and making it difficult for them to read.
Fast forward; I'm in the car, music loud and vision blurred. Fast forward again; I'm in my room sobbing into my pillow. The house is quiet and my hands are still cold and shaking with sorrow.
Slowly I ran out of tears. The room became quiet save for my labored breaths. After that everything was numb and gray. I didn't feel in control. It was as if the motions I performed were programmed and routine, without any real purpose. I erased the drawings. I changed my picture. I removed their contact. I cleansed my phone from the lies.
I finished and went into the kitchen. I got myself food. I came back to my room and took off my ruined makeup and redid it with warm pinks and reds. I put on a better shirt and my comfy socks. I felt my hands, still shaking, but less intense, and the warmth was returning to my fingertips.
It was then I saw more of my worth. I am strong and beautiful and worthy. I'm intelligent and mature for my age. I am only annoying to those who won't look through my surface.
With those thoughts, my hands stopped shaking.
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