Choleric

Chapter XXII

For those who didn't understand, the book will not be started until this one is finished.

[Unedited]

"But she wasn't around, and that's the thing when someone dies, you feel like instead of going in to every fight with backup, you are going into every fight alone." –  Mitch Albom

The thick spines of thousands of leaves cracked against the pressure of her foot, their shrivelled skin crying out as it broke apart, becoming one with the forest floor. Every time Celia's numb body moved, they cried in pain; warning everything she was near. She should be more careful, but Celia just couldn't find a reason to care for the noise. In fact, she couldn't hear a thing other than the screaming of blood pumping through her veins and the eerie high pitched screech that seemed to ring constantly in her ears.

Before long her legs became too weak to hold her weight. Without a second thought they gave up and dragged her body down to the earth. The forest floor screamed with angst as she crashed upon it, breaking lost limbs from the trees above into impossibly smaller pieces.

She was alone. Left by herself in a state of shock and pure agony. His words, torturous as they were, left her alone with the sway of trees and thick undergrowth. Although the moment had passed the memory stayed, gripping at her heart and tearing it to pieces. Whoever said words would never hurt obviously wasn't told anything. Words were the most painful, unlike sticks and stones you could never heal from certain words – especially when spoken by certain people.

Her breath came out in quivers, short and sharp intakes of air in attempt to stop herself from crying. The ground was hard against her skin. Small stones nipped at her exposed thighs in attempt to pierce the skin while sticks sat at odd angles, forcing the pressure of her weight to bare on one spot.

...I don't like you....

And the battle was lost. Her head felt light as a lump formed in her throat. Before long the scattering of individual leaves turned into a blur of browns and reds as her vision clouded over. A small whimper left her throat as the moisture from her eyes kissed her cheeks and fell to the ground. Her control was gone. Everything was gone except the tightening pain in her chest and the growing sting behind her eyes as they released all the despair she tried so hard to keep hidden behind walls.

She didn't know how long she had been lying in the middle of the bush, letting her walls be drowned out until tears no longer came. Droplets of sweat that emerged from her pores had been kindly guided by the small hairs that graced her body. Some made it to the dense floor while others found refuge in the small folds of her elbows and knees, and the thick cotton of her shit. Celia found herself completely soaked in sweat from the heat that had been trapped by the thick undergrowth and trees above. She felt utterly disgusting, her hair sticking to her neck, the dirt that clung to her body for dear life as she sat up. The way her eyes felt, as if they had been stung by bees. And the heaviness of her heart. It dragged her down to the point she felt she may never be able to move again.

She sat still for another period of time, staring at the ground as a numbness swept over her. The tears had long gone, but they left a stained memory. One that would never come out. She felt completely hollow as the words bounced around in her head. The harshness of his face flashed behind her eyes. The way he looked down on her with utter disgust before shaking off her hand and leaving without a second glance. The way she stood there for what seemed like hours, staring blindly at the place he had been standing, praying he would come back and say he didn't mean it, that it was something said in the spare of the moment.