FOUR WEEKS ON NEPTUNE

4

INARA

Age 17

Have you ever broken a pencil in your childhood, seen it snap in half ? Have you ruined a fountain pen, made it drain ink on the whites of the paper underneath, painting it in a dark blue ? Have you ruined a perfectly fine plate and dropped it down to the floor, shattering the glass ? 

I'm jealous of you. 

I'm jealous that you only broke objects and things rather than your mind and body. Jealous that you don't have the compulsive urge to block yourself out to keep others in. And even though I know this is how it works, you can't keep everyone in your life, you can't have a stable sail, a still curtain, unchanged and not shifting from its initial point. I wish I was heavier so I could stay down than float like a feather with every voice in my head being its wind, dancing to it, running away with it. 

I'm tired, I feel tired of being this delicate, in my head I've made a mess out of it. In my head, I'm a havoc, a walking ruckus. I find myself thinking I'll just cancel the fights inside my head, I'll snap that twig in half or walk on that beach at midnight holding the hand of that boy I like, forgetting the things I feel about my body. 

I guess this was my planned escape, I used to think if I tried hard enough I'd be good enough. I was good, I was so good to them. I was good but I was never good enough. 

I don't remember much of what happen, I dont feel much from what happen. All I can do is lay down and keep my eyes closed, listen to the silent beeps of the heart monitor whilst inhaling the faint smell of abticeptics, floor cleaner and hospital beds. I hear the clicking sound of the door with clicking shoes coming closer to the bed. It makes me hold the blanket closer, ball up my fists and hold my breath slightly. 

"Inara", I hear a whisper, I don't think I want to move or open my eyelids and that's what I do, I don't respond. 

"Inara, I know you're up", he says, "Please don't stay still like this'

"I'll pass", I respond, turning to my side. 

"Darling, please, talk to me", he begged. 

"No", I replied, "Please leave dad", I said looking at him. 

I look into his eyes only to notice the sheer pain that ran through them, the fake heartache and transparent lies. They say eyes speak volumes and why not say yes to something than get a glance at a broken heart which they wore right on their sleeve, a broken heart that was clear on their face and sometimes they invite you to a evening party and pour you a cup of confusion and panic. 

Why'd he help me ?  

To not have a family is one thing, but having a family that doesn't act like one, that doesn't feel like one is a different direction. I wish I could see him as a good person, in a way where him and I never grew apart, where he wasn't the way he was, a way where he didn't do what he did. But that wasn't the reality and it would never be that way.

"Inara, please"

"I said no"

"You don't understand-"

"I don't understand what ? I don't understand what you did or is it that I don't understand how they aren't supposed to know what you did"

"They don't need to know what goes inside our home"

"That place is no home"

"Listen", he whispered, "Just this once, I swear I'll stop drinking"

"You're a day late and a dollar short"

"Please, I'm your father for heaven's sake"

"A father who was never there, a father who was drunk", I said, "A father who killed my mother", I whispered in a low tone, expecting a harsh blow of words, stinging slaps or punches but nothing came in except for a creak and the door slamming open.

Shit.

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Here's Chapter 4, I hope you liked it. Don't forget to vote and comment !

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Word count : 720 words

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