Tornado of Nightmares (Book 2)

twelve

☾ Ember ☾

WHY IS IT SO COLD?

My toes curl into the ground—can I even call it the ground? It isn't concrete, it isn't wood, it isn't marble, so what is it? Are these really the questions going through my head right now? Why yes. Yes, they are.

I am many things, but being focused is not one.

I find myself often staring off to the distance, my eyes snagging on the now shattered mirrors. All the mirrors I conquered on my own. Every painful memory I was able to overcome on my own. No one thought I could do it. The Moon himself didn't think I could do it on my own. He told me I needed Gatsby. Maybe I need him as a companion, someone to keep me sane, but why do I need him?

If I think about it, long and hard, I come up blank.

Believe me, I understand the purpose of not being alone. I've grown up relatively alone. Yes, I had Faune, and Reighla, but did they count? Faune did. She cared. She was there. She was there every day. And yet . . . why is it when I think back to everything—every little detail—I'm alone?

Maybe not physically but mentally.

Emotionally. I was alone.

Always.

And it was my fault. I had Faune to talk to, she was there. Always asking if I was okay. Asking how I was feeling, if I wanted to talk about it. But I had shut her out. I shut the world out. I threw up those thick barriers and closed myself off from everyone, even myself, at times. I don't know when it started, this feeling, deep within me. The constant need to be enclosed in my own walls. To hide behind my mask and let it guide me through my life. I guess it got easier to live as a shell of a person. It made the pain . . .bearable.

But being in this mirror. This very last mirror, staring at this version of myself. A version I don't recognize, I realize how much worse the pain was than I made it out to be. It's written all over my face.

I'm sitting at the dining table, the Bastards sitting around me, laughing, talking, having a grand ole time. But then . . .when I look at myself— I'm a ghost. Neither here nor there. I am not present, yet I am. Faune constantly glances at me, worriedly. But no one else notices. Lokas is there, he's engaged in a heated conversation between Nolan and Eden. Faune catches my eye and mouths the words: are you okay? I paste on a loving smile and nod. I'm lying. Lying lying lying. Always lying. Why do I never tell anyone how I'm feeling? Why do I wait for my emotions to overcome me and explode before I reach out?

Because I don't know how.

That's the problem. I don't know how to ask. I don't know how to be that vulnerable with someone. To tell them what eats me up alive at night. What brings the nightmares and never lets go.

I don't know how to ask for help. I've never known.

I hope in the future I can do that. I hope that I can reach out my hand and ask—plead for that help. But I think before doing that, I need to get out of this mirror. I need to face the demon underneath, face the final challenge. By myself.

I know what the challenge is, I've always known. I didn't want to acknowledge it— to think it was ever a possibility for me. But I think it's the first step to that road to recovery. But can I answer the simple question?

Do I love myself enough to be alone?

But even before that final question, I need to know . . .

Do I love myself?

The current answer is plain and simple.

No.