F I V E

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Trigger Warning: Self Harm

"Emilia! We are having guests today, a higher general and his son who is a lieutenant, 18, thats nearly your age!" So much brightness slowly dimming from his eyes. How could I have not noticed this? He was dying inside, the electricity flickering away the bright energy he used to have. Look at him now, happy that he was somewhat going to make me feel less lonely. He cared for me, too deeply.

"Emilia...are you alright?" I look up at the ceiling as an effort to push away the tears and then back at him and nod, mastering a smile. He beamed at me and nodded.

"How was the walk?"

"Enlightening, I really did need that company my age," he uncomfortably shifts in his seat and shoots a sharp glance at Masud who was already attending to his duties.

"Did he tell you anything?" Fear in his eyes, fear I'd know the truth about whatever evil operation him and his bosses were doing. Fear that I'd resent him more than I already have.

"He wasn't talking at all, he was silent the whole way and walked a very safe distance from me," I smile and he nods, looking a little bit more calmer.

We can run away dad, we can live a happy life in a happier country where you'll have free will to do everything your heart desires. Why must you be here? Why must you go through all this?

He couldn't read my mind, he was reading his newspaper now as he sipped his tea the obnoxiously loud way he always used to. I sigh and walk up the staircases to my room.

Maybe that letter had the answer to all of this, to all this frustration and numbness I was feeling all at the same time. My feelings were overloading and I just wanted a release from them. I just wanted my mom here with me, her fingers doing the little massage they did on my head while she sang her weird song.

"Oh the folks from the mountain came down with a story..." I close my eyes and mumble the lyrics trying to catch the remnants of her, the peace that radiated from her presence that I needed direly. She knew the answers to everything.

"The story of love and the story of unity, and all the folks listened and the children clapped their hands..." I lay on my bed and put a hand on my cheek. I had to let her go, I had to let her go. This was bad for me, this was a bad coping mechanism for me. She needed to rest and I needed to move on.

"...such a story they bought, such joy that flourished but at the end of the day... it was just a story..."  this was bad but it felt so good. Did I ever decipher a life without my mom? Does any kid ever decipher such a life? She was my core and I never thought of a life without her and I feared there'd never be a life without her.

"So the folks found love and the folks found joy and the folks found unity all through a story," I was going to die this empty shell of a woman, this aimless being drifting in negative space. This shell that possesses so much hate and so much spite. There was no life after her and maybe I should just accept that, maybe I wasn't so great at coping and maybe thats okay. I was okay with being this monster. I was definitely okay with this. I wasn't forcing myself to believe this so as to push away the truth that was pounding at my doors: I needed to let her go.

The trees that were so similar to me a few days back weren't so similar to me now. They somewhat looked happy in this drained land, rustling away in the evening wind. They had friends that surrounded them for miles. But I didn't, I had no one, absolutely no one. But I had to let her go and something deep inside me told me reading that letter was the answer.

I wasn't ready so I just aimlessly started at the sketchbook on the floor and closed my heavy eyes again. Maybe a little sleep was all I needed to calm the surge of feelings within me.

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