Iris

21 | comfort

— I R I S '   P O V —

     MY EYES remained glued to the TV screen. Animated images played across its surface; faint noises hung upon the air. I paid no attention to either. My hands continued to fiddle with the hem belonging to Elliott's hoodie, and my mind continued to drift between reality and the horrific images playing at the back of it.

None of them made sense; they were rather blurred. Crimson stained the corners of their darkness, its heavy flow so horrific and so terrifying to my teary gaze. Loud screams accompanied them, their muffled noises so dulling to my pacing heart and so agonizing to my exhausted mind. So deafening as they blended along with the ringing noises that had settled upon my ears ever since I came downstairs—around an hour earlier.

Burning tears danced across the edges of my eyes; scorching flames belonging to the intensifying sob clung onto my throat and leaped across its walls. My heart paced wildly against my ribcage, and my gaze wandered all through the living room in its miserable attempt to stop my memories from colliding with reality—in its futile attempt to stop my mind from drifting back to the night of the accident.

I couldn't remember much, and I didn't want to. But the images refused to stop regardless of my plea for them to do so, and the ringing noises only grew louder when my tears threatened to fall. My gaze got greeted with blood whenever it dropped to my hands, and my chest constricted further whenever I inhaled in my attempts to help my lungs grasp any Oxygen.

I was safe.

I released the air from my lungs. Slowly and gradually. I exhaled before inhaling once again. I repeated the same words within my mind until they got engraved on its surface—until they overpowered the horrific images I had grown tired of. My blurred gaze scanned over the creamy walls that surrounded me, and my eyelids only agreed to drop shut when I made sure that my fosters were no longer arguing before my gaze and that Morgan's hushed voice was no longer ringing within my strained ears. That blood no longer stained my skin or my abdomen.

I was alright.

Roman had said that Morgan wouldn't be able to hurt me.

He wouldn't leave. None of my brothers would.

They wouldn't send me away.

My eyelids peeled open as I brought my legs closer to my chest. Both of my arms wrapped firmly around them while my chin rested on top of my knees. I held a sob back when it turned too powerful and focused on the images playing across the TV. I curled further to myself in my attempts to seem as invisible as possible—the way I always had done in the flashback I had been repeatedly getting for the past six days—and told myself that I was safe. Alright. Fine. Whatever reassuring words my mind grasped.

I murmured the same words quietly beneath my breath when I refused to believe them and gazed around once more, taking note of how different the living room appeared in comparison to the basement. I swallowed harshly once my mind finally settled within reality and held the frame resting beside me within my shaky grip.