• A Blackbird's Serenade •

"Chamber Of Reflection"

Journee

I wondered if this was anything what death felt like. A small part of me hoped that I was...because at least then I could finally rest. I might finally know some sort of peace.

I'd reached such a state of apathy lately that I didn't seem to care that I'd hit rock bottom. And if this wasn't it then I sure as hell wouldn't survive whatever was. I felt so lost, I'd lost sight and memory of any destination or finish line I'd strived towards before. None of it amounted to anything anymore. And the worst part was, I don't even think I remember why any longer.

For the longest time now, it felt like, all I knew and all I could feel, was the excruciating drowning; finding no point in even screaming underwater anymore.

There was no telling how long I'd been unconscious. All I could hear was the muffles of a voice that sounded like Mickey's and I felt hands handling me before sprinkles of cold water hit my face, posing as shards of ice.

Well shit I'm up now.

Gasping as I stirred a bit, my eyes blinked away the water as my mouth fell agape. When finally focusing my gaze, I realized I was in the shower, with Mickey standing over me. A mixture of concern and fear was on his face as he slapped at my cheek.

"Mickey what the hell you doin?!" I tried to shout, but my voice scratched and slurred a bit as I panted. "Quit slappin me that hurts dammit-" my arm ached as I swatted at him.

"I thought you's was dead J!" My eyes widened a bit in surprise once he yelled a bit. He was panting right along with me. "You got any idea how bad you scared me?? Huh?!"

Snatching my gaze shamefully away from his, I muttered. "I'm fine..."

Scoffing, he snatched a gentle hand under my chin, his eyes stern as they peered into the redness of mine. "You can hate me all you want but yo ass ain't touchin another damn drink- y'hear me??"

In protest, my face scrunched as I ached upon trying to move. "I'll drink all I want Mickey- you ain't the boss of me-"

"Like hell you will. I ain't lettin' this shit happen again Journee." His voice hardened, and it made me stop with a look down at my lap, my clothes soaked and embarrassingly disheveled. "Why you doin this to yourself J?" He asked, exasperated. "It won't take the pain away honey-"

"I'm tired, Mickey..." my voice broke once my eyes drifted to his, my head falling back against the tub. "It's all too much, and I'm just tired..."

The water had been turned off by now as a thick silence surrounded us. It hurt me to see the care in his eyes, for I was sorry to be disappointing him. I was sorry that he had to see me this way...

Sighing sadly, his head tilted at me. "Journee...honey please, you can't give up..."

"Why not?" I asked, my chuckle aching as it crawled from my throat. "I've been 'not givin up' all my life, and for what??" I lazily threw up a hand. "For who?... 'Cause it sure as hell ain't been for me."

"And why not?" Mickey asked softly, still on his knee as he hovered a bit over me. "Why not fight for yourself?..."

A moment passed before I shrugged, looking away. I'd never really considered it. "Guess I never really seemed like somethin' enough to fight for...least not to me..."

Grabbing my hand, he searched my eyes. "Well how bout givin' it a try now? Hm?" Once I shook my head slowly with a doubtful look, his head tilted again. "Journee you's too bright a light to let this darkness get to you. I know that it hurts and I know that you tired, but listen to me sweet pea, you can't let it win. You just can't..."