Accolade

chapitre vingt-six

No one can pretend forever. 

Eventually, the truth that we're trying to cover up beneath a veil of pretend comes to light. Unfortunately, it is human nature to pretend. It is a defense mechanism when the truth is too hard to accept. When we're truly hurt, we pretend that everything is fine. We let others rip our hearts out and then tell them to keep it because we didn't need it anyway. 

I always thought my breaking point would be different. 

I didn't expect it to happen the way it did. I hadn't even realized it was. Although I guess nobody knows when things like this happen. I was scared that I would relapse. I was terrified that those vacant feelings and haunting thoughts would come back, they could control me the way a puppet's strings can be pulled. If I wasn't in the right mind, what could they do? 

They say to guard your thoughts and now I knew why. Intrusive thoughts can become real in the blink of an eye.

It had been a few days since that night. They didn't leave me alone longer than a few minutes, less than Warren that night because I realized I'd broken something in him. He hadn't spoken. He didn't let me speak to him, though I had no idea what I would even say. 

I'm sorry? 

I had suicidal thoughts and no amount of apologizing was going to fix it. There was no return because I actively kept myself busy so my thoughts didn't have a chance to spiral anymore. I had painted nonstop over the last few days. It wasn't recovery but it helped. I felt less out of control, less like a livewire waiting for connection.

I lay on my stomach in bed. A small easel, slightly bigger than my palm rested in the middle of containers of watercolor. I held the dainty paintbrush with my thumb and forefinger and I glanced up at the city skyline from my bedroom window once more. The painting was almost done, I was just finishing the clouds, and I daydreamed enough that my thoughts remained calm. I couldn't remember when I started the painting but I worked tirelessly on it, even though my shoulders screamed and my muscles ached from holding the position for minuscule details to come to life. 

Warren was right, it was therapy in its own sense. 

It distracted me from the worst. 

I knew I wasn't alone. My bedroom door was open and I could sense when one of them came to check on me. They did it every few minutes. Sometimes, I forgot one of them was there. In a way, they were my very own guardian angels. I knew that if I lost it again, they would keep me from hurting myself. I really wanted to focus on thinking better, even if my body couldn't. 

Suddenly, I heard bags rustling and footsteps coming down the hall. 

"It's time to get dressed!" Auden announced as he came into my room. His charming personality had returned as if I hadn't just scared the life out of them. As if I hadn't been soaking wet in a towel in River's arms, trembling, and Warren hadn't been haunted by the ghost of the past. It was terrible and I wanted to apologize until my tongue went limp.

I rolled over and sat up. "What for?" 

"We're going for dinner." 

I frowned. 

"Oh, Aida, don't give me that look. You'll get wrinkles far sooner than you wish. Come on, up you get." He reached out for my hand and his eyes briefly fell to take notice of the little painting I nearly completed. "Very nice details! How do you paint that small?" 

"A tiny brush and insane concentration," I said and took his hand. He helped me off the bed. I stood on dull, aching legs, but it had become so normal I barely registered it this time. "I was almost finished."