Iris

23 | scribbles

     A BLANK PAPER rested on the white desk before my gaze, and a pencil was grasped tightly within a shaky grip of mine.

Eerie quietude hung upon the corners of my room. Darkness would've entirely engulfed it if not for the faint lights that had crept through the window and into the seemingly suffocating walls that surrounded me.

My chest heaved in torturous inhales and agonizing exhales. A ringing noise occupied my ears, constantly sinking into my mind and weighing so heavily on top of it. My tears intensified along with the confusion that had latched onto my thoughts, and I found no route that would help me in getting rid of either of them. 

I wrote a few words down, only to cross all of them out. I repeated my action so many times that reality turned into a blur, fading to the background of the images portraying my memories from the chaotic night of the accident.

I had been feeling so trapped lately. My mind would drift back to that night all time, and my thoughts would linger on the tiny fragments of the events that I had managed to recall.

I would believe that I had finally made sense out of the images playing before my gaze; I would sometimes grasp the threads and tie them together, connecting all of the memories into an intelligible image that my mind would seemingly understand.

But all the threads would break loose the exact next moment when I would finally spot the large holes within the image those threads had built—when I would finally spot the great number of events I hadn't found an explanation to, no matter how hard I tried.

The memories would fade into nothing but thin air, and the complete image would shatter until no traces would be left to indicate that it had once existed.

My mind would settle within reality, and my emotions would turn into a blend of frustration and annoyance. I would attempt to find answers to the questions swirling at the back of my mind, and I would find none.

Today hadn't been any different.

I had stayed with Roman after finishing my lunch, and he had told me that I would start school on Monday, meaning tomorrow. He had informed me that I would be homeschooled for as long as it would take me to get better and that I could always talk to him if I didn't like it. I had murmured a quiet okay and left his room.

Nolan had walked in right after. Stress had suffocated his entire face, just like it had been doing ever since he had received the message last Tuesday.

I had attempted to stop myself from eavesdropping, but the voice nagging my mind had pushed me into doing the opposite. I had remained glued to my place, neither heading toward my room nor toward that of my brother, and I had heard Nolan telling our oldest brother that he needed money.

Roman's instant response was a no. His tone had been firm, leaving no room for discussion. Silence had fallen upon the air, and even though I had expected Nolan to leave, he hadn't done that.