The Darkness Of Transparency

Chapter Four

“People always talk about how hard it can be to remember things - where they left their keys, or the name of an acquaintance - but no one ever talks about how much effort we put into forgetting. I am exhausted from the effort to forget... There are things that have to be forgotten if you want to go on living.” 

― Stephen Carpenter, Killer

Chapter Four

We trudged through the snow, which after two days and nights had accumulated, every where. Icicles hung off any outcropping they could latch to and they would probably form on your nose, given the chance. 

But no matter how trouble some the snow and ice was to a clumsy person (like myself,) it was still beautiful, nonetheless. The way the ice crystals shimmered in the morning light along with the way the snowflakes floated down out of the sky at their own leisurely pace, was astonishing.

The nippy chilly wind that bit at the cheeks almost made me wish I was back at the dinning room table with everyone. 

Over breakfast it had been decided that Lizzy, Tomus, and Lars would have stay to stay the rest of the day. Lizzy and I were to go into town-which we both where more than happy to oblige, myself due to 'transparent circumstances' and Lizzy out of frustration. 

At the table Brian, Lars,  and Tomus had been having a rather LOUD conversation about skiing and they now had planned to go over to the next town and go to the local ski lodge. 

Lizzy was absolutely petrified of skiing and wanted to hear nothing of the sort, but she was over ruled.

Now she was slightly, well more than slightly displeased with her brothers. Why she disliked skiing so much, I don't know.

The urge to ask was there, but I resisted, knowing some things hurt to talk about. 

That's why I push down my memories so forcefully. I've blocked a lot out: the long sleepless nights, the group sessions every other week, even the food and what we ate I've tried to forget. But sometimes forgetting hurts as much as remembering.

My most traumatic experience wasn't about myself; it was the people around me. 

It was always scared. I could hear the screams of the insane from my room. I would hear the nurses walking down the hall to wake them from there nightmares and sometimes even when they awoke they wouldn't stop screaming, trapped in their own living torment.

I would sit on my bed for hours and hours, and I would think the person was infected with some disease. I would wonder why they screamed and I didn't.

I do remember somethings. 

Clarissa use to come and float on my bed when I scared. 

The very first time she came there I was so happy. The relief that came with a familiar face was almost soothing. Almost. 

Until I realized that the familiar face I found soothing, was the very thing that got me here. 

So in a sense I wasn't afraid of what happened I was afraid of what could happen.

Then one day Lily came to visit. Why she did was beyond my understanding, but she was a beacon for my hopeless self.

I remember I was fifteen when she started her visits. I loved the days she came. They started to be all I lived for. Even my books, the things that had gotten me through all the nightmares and fear would lay forgotten. She visited me almost everyday; her visits were the light shining though my clouds. The clouds of fear and longing that would hang suspended in a limbo above me. All I wanted was to be accepted- to be loved.