𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤 𝖲𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖲 #2
She was addicted to a type of sadness that pulled her deeper into her hole. She changed herself because of her hanging past. He avoided the dark parts of his life, doesn't mean the darkness didn't loom over him.
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ISAAC
"...and she's stable for now."
Those words woke me right up from my devastating nap. I wiped the drool off my cheek with my t-shirt and rubbed my eyes of the tired cloud that weighed on my lids.
I staggered up to her mom and the doctor. He gave me a smile and walked away. His shoes click sharply and I trail my eyes over to her mom.
"What did he say?" I whisper and try to wipe any tiredness clouding my face.
"Surgery was successful and she's stable. Go home, eat something and take a shower. I will call you when she wakes up." Her mom squeezes my arm reassuringly. I nod agreeing and walk out.
I took my car back to my house, my mind cannot stop thinking about her. I rub my hand along my face to try and wake myself up.
She's fine.
I have to convince myself that she is and she will be.
I walk inside the house with my feet dragging against the floor. I dropped my keys on the kitchen counter and opened the fridge. I took out a half drunken water bottle and gulped down the rest of it.
The cold water glided down my dry throat. After one gulp I couldn't stop, I kept drinking the rest of the water until there was nothing left but air.
I gasped as the breath of air returned to me. It was like a windy gush to my conscious. I was gasping and shaking with anger. At myself.
It's time to face my demons.
I take a shower and change into fresh clothes. I drop my dirty ones in the washer and rush down the stairs to the kitchen. I warm the left over pizza that dad had last night. While it's warming up, I look to the back, the basement door.
I've never been under there, ever. Fear, doubt, whatever you want to call it. I just never went down into the basement. Dad always teased me about it and I laughed with him but deep down, I was crying and clawing at myself to just do it.
I find myself twisting the doorknob, the hinges creek against each other. A cold draft seeps the cracks of tbe door. The oak wood swings across and opens the basements. I walk in and the wooden stairs instantly creek under my footstep. I flick the light switch and the light doesn't do much to illuminate the room. The fluorescent lights flicker, almost giving up but still hanging on.
The microwave timer calls me back but this time there aren't excuses.
I take one step at a time, getting lower and lower until I reach the floor. The door was still open and I could see the bright light beyond the stairs. I turn my head around the basement. Boxes sitting on shelves collecting dust, ornaments and clutter sitting together, warming each other up in the cold room.
