Better as Bones

poppies and lavender - XLII

Briar

I collapse, limbs heavier than suffocating water. My head cracks against the cement, it sparking bursts of white hot in my eyes. I lay in the garden. Bastet and I were here last. I'll leave when I figure out how to live. I don't know how long it will be but that's okay.

Ambrosial poppies and lavender linger, their dying decay softly brushing the floor as they weep. My eyes close soft. The steady hum of voices and shouts thrum in my brain. Footsteps echo.

How nice this is. The cool of the garden's stone floor seeps into my bones. The echoes grow louder. I peel open my eyes.

Above me a shadow looms. Burst of dark curls fall in their face. Sunlight shifts, illuminating Bastet's features. They look tired.

Their skin is dull now. Their freckles in groups speckled along their face. Their hair falls messily. Their eyes are puffy. The gold stares into me. What do they see here?

Newly born scars litter the soft skin between their shoulders and neck. They dot upward, hooking behind their ears. No stars hang around them. Bastet extends a hand.

I look at it. It hovers. Their fingers are scabbed and dried from blood. Bony now, each knuckle protruding further than it should. Their palm looks scraped and calloused.

I reach up, my shoulders moving away from the scratch of stone. Bastet clasp my hand, heaving as they drag me upward. Their fingers linger with mine as I stumble to my feet. I meet Bastet's gaze. They stare back at me before turning, glancing over their shoulder.

I stand statue. Bastet nods swiftly, towards the alley out of the garden. A question lingers on my lips.

Bastet presses, eyebrows drawn in. Their golden eyes flicker down. When they glance back up, water traces their eyes. They inhale steadily, nodding again as they turn. My fingers itch as I reach out ever just. My hand brushes my side.

"Come on," Bastet says. Their voice is hoarse. Tired. Painful. "I need you."

My lips quiver as I nod. Tears slip out of my eyes as I step towards them. They start to move, leading me away from the dying flowers of life.

Should I try my own life helped by their hand? It just scares me to think that to do so, I'd have to open my eyes. I have to stop swimming in the chambers of my mind. I don't want to. It's safe in here.

Maybe...maybe that's what Bastet meant. But my swimming led to bursting lungs of water. My reality attempt did not go the same as Bastets. If I can't find that comfort in a reality like Bastet has, maybe this reality is the one I should strive to be in.

So this is why I didn't die.