Typhlosis | Woosan

Acuity

Warning: This book will mention depression, gruesome topics, eating disorders, and sexual content. I will not be putting individual warnings at chapters for this story in particular since it takes away from its cohesiveness. If ANY of that bothers you, don't read this. <3

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You know when the sun has just set but the sky still looks like one of those paintings at a stupid art fair. Like the blue is in artsy streaks with purple and pink, and sometimes even beautiful sea green details. And you're just sitting in your car and you watch as it changes its gradient. The orange and red fading as it becomes a darker shade of blue. I fucking love that.

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San

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"San, please just sit up for me." My mom holds the back of my neck while I'm literally throwing a fit, crying and hyperventilating.

"Mom, I can't see you, I can't see, I ca-" My volume rises as I repeat my frantic sentences.

"Sweetie I know, but I need you to calm down, I need to look at your eyes." She manages to stop my thrashing and sit me up, my breathing still quick and shallow. Tears stream down my cheeks, and I feel anxious. Looking around but not being able to see. "Honey, pull the car around, we need to take San to the emergency room." I feel completely disoriented, and when my mom helps me sit up, my thoughts roam to just dying to stop this. I need my fucking eyes, give them back. The tears refuse to let up. 

It's like one of those trust exercises where that guy you never talk to is paired up with you and he has to guide you through a path while you're wearing a blindfold. Except this time the weight of being truly blind is preventing me from laughing the ridiculousness off. I am sat in the back seat of the car, and I sort of freeze, the black not a true black, but colors swarm around me in different level of brightness, as if someone is pressing on my eyes. Like when I was a kid and I'd press on my eyes and have fun looking at the swimming colors and fuzzy broken TV aesthetic. I blame five year old me for this shit.

My broken sobs fill the car, but my parents don't say anything to me, instead talking to each other in hushed whispers.

"I'm sure it's temporary, nothing happened."

"We can't be sure, he said it didn't hurt, right?"

"Yes, but he has not recognition of where my finger was when I waved it in front of his face. He says he can see some light, but that's it."

"Guys, I'm right here." I say in a choked voice, my hands running through my hair.

"Sannie, I know baby." My mom says in a forced comforting voice. It's one of those voices that is so off, you immediately can tell something is up. You know when your mom is  concerned about something when she uses that tone. I cry harder just thinking about it. Knowing my mom is genuinely worried kills me, and I can't do anything about it. I can't take care of myself, all my friends will hate me, I can't do this. Oh my God.

"San, stop crying, they will need to look at your eyes when we get there." My dad murmurs, and I jump as a hand rests on my knee. I look down in response but only cry harder when I can't see it. 

"Stop, sweetie, he can cry if he needs to." I can hear a slapping sound, and I can only assume it's my mom hitting my dad's arm in protest. Of course all I can do now is assume things. Assume everything looks as it always does. Not like I can see anything new.