Alone

Chapter 51

elizabeth's pov

The bell overhead chimed as I pushed open the door, but no one was bothered by the disturbance. Everyone was lost in their own little world.

I welcomed the feeling of warmth that the library radiated, the smell and the feel of books as well as seeing people engrossed in the books they were reading gave me a sense of comfort.

Each one of us had one thing in common; we had come here to escape from our own lives and find solidarity in different pieces of literature.

I was quite familiar with the place as well as the people here. I had found this place when I was wandering around after I had gotten discharged from the hospital only because I had been ordered to get out of my apartment or suffer the consequences of having my poptarts being taken away.

Stumbling upon this place, it quickly became my place of tranquility, a place where I could go whenever something went wrong.

I gave the librarian a small smile and a wave before making a bee-line straight to the bookshelf. Pulling out 'Jane Eyre', I took a seat in the furthermost corner of the library and settled down comfortably. 

I had already read the book numerous times, today was another one of those days where I had an overwhelming urge to read it again. The literary style and the portrayal of the characters, especially Jane, never failed to astound me. 

My eyes skimmed the first few lines, but it was incomprehensible. I heedlessly read the same lines over and over again trying to perceive what was written, but my brain refused to cooperate.

Closing the book, I let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling wondering how long it would be like this.

Shutting my eyes, I counted to ten and took deep breaths. Once I was done, I attempted to give it another try, but instead my eyes fell on the journal peeking out of my bag.

Dr. Anna insisted that I should write down whatever I was feeling and presently, I was feeling quite a lot.

Grabbing a pen, I placed the journal on the table in front of me. The blank white pages staring back at me, compelling me to write. So I did.

Misery was something that never seemed to leave me, it was always present around the corner waiting for me, but by now I was more than familiar with it. The feeling was second nature to me. Even if I did experience some sort of happiness, it lasted for a few moments and then in a blink of an eye; it vanished.

My father who was supposed to take care of us, left. We weren't worthy enough for him to stay; his wife, a child and his unborn baby. There were days where I wondered, why, why weren't we good enough for him? But then I know for a person like him there is nothing more important than money and power. 

And I realized we were better off without him. 

My mother was snatched away from me, from the one's that needed her the most and there was nothing I could do about it. People like her made this world a slightly better place to live in, it showed that kindness could persevere in this heartless world. 

Even through the hardships and obstacles she faced, her kindness and joy for the world around her never faded into hatred for the life that she was living. She constantly found joy in the little things and always had a smile on her face.

I loved my brother; he was my bestfriend and someone I always looked upto. Being deserted by him was another shock to my system, one that took me years to get over, but eventually I did. Looking back at it now, I realize that it wasn't his fault, he thought he was doing it for the betterment of both our lives.

The trauma that came with being abandoned was one of the worst demons I had to face and I still continue to do so. Thinking about the time I was trapped sends shivers down my spine. Making sure not to make even the slightest noise or speaking, being abused mentally and physically was the fear I lived with.

My ten year old self would stay awake and hope that Christian would show up and take me away from there, but he never did. I wondered if living was worth it anymore. Would anyone even know? Would anyone miss me? Fortunately, those questions were not answered because I was given another chance at a better life, away from the hurt and pain that shaped my childhood.

It was hard at first, but I strived to pull through. Life was a routine, but something that I was grateful for and that kept me going was the people that surrounded me. Nonetheless, the emptiness inside me never went away, I wasn't living life. I was simply existing.

Love was a dusty word that I had long forgotten until him. He turned my world around and made me feel emotions I never thought I would feel. He made me want to live instead of just existing, he made me want to go on adventures and explore the world. He made me think about my future, a future with him.

Seeing him smile made my day and it didn't seem like I needed anything except him. For once, I was happy and satisfied, something that I thought I would never feel.

I loved him and I thought he felt the same way, but I was wrong. I became too dependent and maybe that was my fault.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, thinking I could be content with life. But I couldn't, not with the baggage I carry.

I've tried so hard to forget about you, but one way or another the thought of you, your gentle touches and those grey eyes cross my mind. The twin's haven't spoken a word about you. It's like you never existed, like you were a beautiful dream that everyone wishes to have. The feel of your caresses, how you held me and reassured me that everything would be fine when everything was falling apart is unforgettable. 

Your departure without so much as a word has affected me more than I'd like to admit.

The void inside me has consumed me. Pieces of myself remain shattered around me, and I don't know if I can ever fix it.

I don't regret any of my time with you, that was the happiest I had been in a while and a happiness I never thought I would ever get the chance to experience.

All my time with you, I was learning to love myself too because if someone else could love me then so could I.

Heartbreak was a common thing for me right from childhood. Even through all of it, my heart was still beating, broken as it was, it still worked just so I could be alive today. If my heart could still do its job after everything it's been through then maybe, just maybe I could one day be fine.

Closing the journal, I knew what I needed to do.