The archive of the forgotten

the better one ~ childish

I open my eyes. I am too tired for anything, but I want to have energy. I take a deep breath as I step out of bed. I look around and feel a strange tear in my eye as I realise the discrepancy between how large my room is now, and the room where I have survived all these years in. I'll have to learn a lot, I will have to learn how to feel home again. But it is all so big and out of place, It feels as if I am floating through it, as if there is too much oxygen trapped inside. It doesn't feel right, I try to ignore the itchiness of my skin and the splitting headache. I blink quickly and think about last night, I shoot up and walk to my bag. I take out everything that my small life consists of. Everything is there, except the small empty bottle I stole that faithful day, I feel my eyes blinking. I don't know whether to panic or to be grateful. Is she going to throw me out of the house? Or is she too kind for me? Did she tell Thrjel? I shake my head and sit down on the bed. I should have never started it. But a life without pain, who could deny that pleasure? And when I took it before going to sleep, I would remember what my mother's face looked like again. I would remember a face painted by beauty, not the one painted by blood. It healed everything life had ripped apart, while tearing down what I myself had built. I scream through my teeth, my whole jaw cramps up as I throw the bag through the room. There's a sickly nasuea that takes over my body as tears appear in my eye, I grab my knees and pull them to my chest. I busy my face in the hard bones that give me no consolation. How could I fuck something up so easily? I take a deep breath, if she is going to throw me out why wouldn't she have done it yesterday?

I stare into my own eyes, they can't focus on one specific thing. They just dart from left to right and back, awfully cold water drips down my face. The dry skin of my hands gets caught in my black stubble as I touch own cheek, I wonder if I would look more beautiful if I wouldn't shave. I stare at myself when I realise my scar would be more obvious, there would be a patch showcasing the thing that made me a mistake. I turn on the shower and let the water slowly heat itself up, the steam coming off of it feels strange on my skin. I step into the shower and let the hot water burn my skin till it stops itching, it takes too long, it feels like the inside of my skin is somehow invaded by something that isn't supposed to be there. I look up, the streaming water falls directly on my face and cleans it of flaws and responsibility. I look down at hands, they look too big for their wrists, their wrists are mere bones, and the hands are fully grown, perfect to play piano, perfect to work in a mine. In our language we even had a nickname for large hands that meant coaldiggers. I trice the blue veins on my hands back to the inside of my elbows, the small injection marks look painful, but they never were. It was the only thing that didn't hurt in a time that I alone could not produce joy. It might be my demise if I would go on, but till now it has been my saviour. Am is that so hard to see? I dig my nails in my hand, my hair is plastered to my face by the water, creating artful spirals as I am losing my breath because the water huts my back harder than it is supposed to. The red remains of pain slowly trickle down my leg as I turn the water off. I don't want to feel pain ever again. I push my hair back, the water gets stuck between my fingers like the anger gets stuck between my teeth. Just take a deep breath Xad.

I walk down the stairs. The house is awfully quiet, the sun hasn't even come up yet. I walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, the tiles are cold underneath my socks. I freeze when I see that Sostrate is already sitting in the kitchen. I sigh and just sit down in front of her. I inspect my nails, they're very clean, not to mention a bit too long for my liking.
"A good morning to you too." Sostrate says as she puts down the newspaper.
I look up and smile "Good morning." My voice feels like it is balancing on some kind of cord.
She grabs an envelope from the table and gives it me. I stare at her, my eyes slowly turning weary.
"Come on, open it." She says.
I open it, her handwriting is elegant and regal. There are no stains anywhere or hesitations, I read it, but I cannot make much sense of it, it's just numbers and days in a certain order.
"This is your treatment plan Xad, if you want to stop using you should not do it like this. It will convince you that you cannot live without it, while you have done so a long time before."
I stare at the paper.
"We are doing microdoses of morphine, because I know how well it works. But we will slowly diminish. And if you want to I could look for a non-addictive painkiller."
I shake my head "I do this all the way or I don't do this at all."
"So no other painkiller? Then everything is settled. Now follow me, before Thrjel wakes up."