Writing Prompt

_I deleted your number though I didn’t know you were coming back 2 years later. This time last year I hated you and cringed at the sound of your very name. My heart still folded in the squares of my pocket. I still wonder what you did with the note I gave you. I don’t even remember what I had written down. I could swear on my life you had thrown it out the window within the first 10 minutes of holding it in your callused hands. Your hands were always unique. They always had dirt on them. Like it was etched into your skin, unable to scrub away. And those boney fingers that looked like there was nothing but skin wrapped around a thin stick. Though somehow I still remember them. And how I remember them I cannot forget. You made sure of that. Indelible is what I called you. Indelible. I bet you didn’t even know what it meant. _

Damian led me to a secret room in the palace even I didn’t know about. It was dark and weapons lined the walls. The floors had mats covering them. This was a soldier training room.

“Woah.” I mumbled.

“Yeah.” Damian replied. “Are you ready?”

“I guess.” I replied.

“Good.” He tossed me a fake knife. “Here’s your first lesson. The element of surprise.” Then he came at me with his own fake knife.

I screamed and swung a punch at him. He ducked and grabbed my waist. In a second, his fake knife was at my neck. I stared up at him and processed what just happened. His onyx eyes met mine.

He smirked at me. “You’re dead.” He said.

“I wasn’t ready.” I argued.

“That’s the point of the element of surprise. You’re not supposed to know. You always have to be ready.”

Then I realized that Damian’s hand was around my waist and our chests were touching. All I could think about was Dane’s hands on me. It made me cringe. I couldn’t handle this.

“Please get off me. I think I got it this time.” I said.

“I doubt it.” He replied, but let go of me.

He went at me again. I shoved my knife out at him. He grabbed my wrist and pushed it away. He simulated the motion of stabbing me. “Dead.”

I glared at him.

We went again and again. Each time, I died. Damian either stabbed me, twisted my neck, or broke my legs and arms. After a while, I was exhausted and wanted to cry.

Damian let me take a break. “How have you learned nothing?” He asked.

I panted and collapsed onto the floor. “What’s the point? You heard my father. This is a waste of my time. I’ll just get a stupid husband who can do it for me.” I mumbled.

He gaped at me. “You heard that?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. That’s how most marriages in this kingdom work.” I sighed.

“Really?” Damian looked at me like I was insane.

“Yeah? What does your city do?” I collapsed onto the floor and waited for his reply.

“My city, Bloodwren, is all about love. We believe in finding the right partner and really making sure that that person is the one. There is no going to the parents. There is no match making. It’s about finding true love and keeping it.”

“That sounds nice. How do they do that?” Now I was intrigued. I wanted to know about Bloodwren’s traditions and if they still followed them.

“Well, when someone proposes, they do it with a gift. It’s supposed to be this significant gift that means something to the both of them. It’s all about showing how badly you want to marry that person. I once saw a poor man propose to a girl with a rose. He made a grand speech about how he didn’t have much, but he wanted to give her his life. All of his bad moments and all of the good. It was the most romantic thing I had ever seen.” Damian said. He had a wistful look in his eyes and I wondered if there was more to him than just breaking hearts.

“That is romantic. I want someone to propose to me with a flower.” I said.

“It’s very beautiful.”

I smiled. “What comes next?”

“Well, after the proposal, the couple gives each other weapons. They both give each other something they can protect themselves with as a symbol of trust and support. It’s a way of saying that they will fight for you.” He explained.

“Weapons?”

“Yep. Everyone is Bloodwren knows how to fight. Protection is necessary. We have a lot of enemies.”

“So I hear.” I paused. “Is that it?”

“No. The last thing they do is perform a great service to one another. They do something of great importance. It shows that they will put your needs above their own. It’s a great honor to complete them.”

“That’s nice.”

“I know. At the wedding, the couple gives each other a bit of their blood to bond them forever. It shows love, trust, support, respect, and honor. Every tradition in my culture is related to true love. It’s all about careful decision and trust.”

I smiled wistfully. I could imagine that. I wish I had that option, but I didn’t. I would be forced into a marriage and lost to a broken heart forever. I was doomed. “That sounds nice. I wish I had that chance.” I mumbled.

“Maybe you will.” Damian gave me a reassuring smile.

“Nah. It’s out of my hands now.”

“Well, are there any traditions here that you like?” He asked me and reached out his hand to help me up.

I gracefully took it and, once I was standing, I replied, “Well, there is one Solestian tradition that I’ve always found romantic. Not many people do it anymore because they think it’s old and outdated. Basically, the wedding ceremony takes place at midnight. The wedding ceremony happens, but the couple doesn’t kiss yet. Then they celebrate and dance with the people there and have an amazing time.”

What surprised me was that Damian was listening to every single word I said. He didn’t interrupt me. He just stared at me with his onyx eyes and listened. It felt…nice.

“Then, before sunrise, they head to the ruins of the Sun Palace. Everyone gathers there and the priest makes them restate their vows. Then they share a kiss at sunrise.”

All I ever wanted was the side-splitting, life-changing, end-of-the-world type of love. Yet as I slumped against the wall of the training room, I realized my world was ending, just not in the way I’d hoped.

That was defeating.

Damian suddenly charged at me. I squealed and shoved my fake knife into him. He fell over and smiled. I gasped. “Oh my holy sun. What the heck, Damian?” I cried out.

“Element of surprise.” He replied and smirked, before getting up and brushing away some of the hair that fell into my face. Then I realized that his touch hadn’t sent me cringing away. It felt kinda…pleasant.

Oh my holy suns.

My search for love is unsuccessful again and again which makes me think maybe it’s time for my world to end

and so, with a sorrowful heart i grab a knife and then carving starts

every scream puddles of blood i’ll never be fixed so it seems

barbed wire in my mouth shackles on my wrist and with one last rouse i end myself

I had stopped for some reason. I don’t know why. Maybe I had just gone too numb at this point. The blood was on my floor, yet I didn’t feel upset. It was almost like I was meant to relapse. It was almost like this was supposed to happen.

I was lying to myself. Over and over again.

Someone knocked softly on the door. I blinked slowly, looking up, as though I had my door open. I blinked again, trying to will myself to say something, or do something, but instead I just stayed where I was.

“Cas?”

It was the voice of my little brother, full of worry. I tried to work words into my throat, but instead they clogged and got stuck there in a lump. I swallowed, hard.

Three more loud, thundering knocks. “Cas!”

I should say something so he’ll go away. But I don’t. I blink again. I was waiting for my feelings to come back. I wasn’t sure that they ever would. It was almost like my entire world had ended the second he left me. There was nothing left to keep me away from the edge anymore.

At some point I had tugged my sleeves down over my wrists again, because I was now watching the blood slowly bleed through. It was almost fascinating. Almost.

I didn’t even flinch when I heard the key jingle in the lock, or when the door flew open to reveal all ten of my brothers. I blinked, slowly looking up.

Blake was in the front, the keys hanging limply in his hands. His eyes were searching every part of me before they landed on the floor, the blood visible from where I was sitting. He didn’t freak out, instead he ordered for everyone to leave immediately.

I stared as they began to fight, still not feeling anything. In the end, Blake was the only one left. He took a cautious step in the bathroom, his eyes finding the razor. I just watched as he came closer. I didn’t move, I didn’t speak, it was like I was frozen in time.

“Cas,” Blake said softly, slowly getting down to my level. “What’re you doing, sweetheart?”

What was I doing? I wasn’t doing anything. I haven’t been doing anything. I’ve just been here, waiting for me to stop existing, because my world ended, right? So, why am I still here?

Why AM I still here?

My fingers curled into my palms, my nails digging into my hand. Blake kept his eyes on me as he slowly reached over, peeling my fingers away as he kept eye contact with me. He held my hands tightly, almost as if he was afraid to lose me.

I blinked. Something wet fell down my cheek. Blake freed one of my hands so he could wipe it away.

Cradling my cheek in his hand, he whispered “You just lost your whole world, didn’t you?”

And just like that, my feelings came in a whirlwind of color and emotions. They slammed into me like a freight train, jerking me out of my frozen state. I gave a small gasp, pulling away from Blake, but he held me where I was. The tears came then as I felt my heart rip apart for the second time today. I was sobbing, almost choking, and gasping for air. Blake placed my head in the crook of his neck as he pulled me into his embrace, rubbing my back soothingly.

“It’s okay honey,” he whispered as I fell apart. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

I wanted beauty and romantic gestures

I wanted warm hands and times where you would look into my eyes and see me my soul

I wanted romance comparable to the greats Romeo and Juliet Helen and Paris

I wanted love that would kill me if i didn’t get more

I wanted it to be exhilarating breath taking heart stopping

And I guess I got it

But laying in a pool of my own blood staring into your warm eyes pain wracking every inch of my body and your hands still pressing into the knife

I don’t know if this is what I meant

My love was side-splitting, because my heart ripped. It was life-changing, because I would never truly live again. It was world ending, because my world was ending. He was my world, and he had ended. The cold bathroom tiles indented themselves into my the legs, but wherever i moved they just got colder. But I couldn’t bear their cold, because it reminded me of his cold. It reminded me of all those days in the bitter hospital waiting room. Reminded me of freezing armrests of the chair beside his bed. It reminded me of how his hand felt as I held it for the last time and kissed his forehead goodbye. I had known this apocalypse was coming. I had known for the last ten months. But just because I braced myself for the impact of the asteroid doesn’t mean that I knew how to survive after it hit. I was a porcelain doll. He had taken me out of my box and played with me, cared for me. But know that he was gone, I was cracking. My porcelain skin was shattered, my beautiful dress was tattered. Paint was peeling, and from my cracks flooded tears. Not puddles, but waves of tears. Each sob decimated my body like an earthquake. I was in a hospital, a place of healing. Yet I was utterly destroyed. Nothing, no care, no medicine, could save me. He was gone, and so was my light. Without a sun, a world does not exist. I no longer existed. I was a barren, cold corpse.

I thought she was there just like thin air the things i thought were really not

running from me like the bark of a tree falling off stung like a bee trust broken like whipped cake batter heart ripped like plastic token's I shattered well I thought I did but i will be put together again just like last time

but what if this is different what if I'm reaching out forever hurt forever broken forever?

People like me struggle to open up. Whether you were always told you weren’t good enough, you were being dramatic and it really wasn’t that bad. Be it that everything would be better here if you just sat down, didn’t speak or cry. Accepted that although you are just a little human who wants to explore, you sometimes make a mess and always needs to rely on someone. You’re an inconvenience to the life your parent once had.

Then we fast forward, to being an adult. We’re in the big wide world where you have to trust the right people. You need the right friends. Ones to love and support you and to continue the work that your parents put in, moulding you to the person you are.

But what if you weren’t moulded by a parent’s unconditional love and understanding? You didn’t go to sleep every night knowing you were loved, in fact you prayed it would be better tomorrow. You weren’t kept safe enough to learn the dangers of the world, because you spent your childhood exhausting your nervous system trying to keep yourself safe. So then you choose the wrong friends. The ones who you can never trust with the thoughts inside your head. Instead you mask it. You change everything about yourself on the sole basis of making that person happy. You appear to be having a great time. No one notices the anxiety you are riddled with because you’ve spent your whole life hiding them, knowing if you showed them there’d be consequences.

All of this time in more toxic environments make the wounds they left open deeper and deeper. You then get into a relationship. Not a loving, stable environment, but a toxic, one with a narcissist. From the outside in everything looks fine. On the inside you are fading away, frightened and looking for support. Who better to talk to than your mum right? The person whose one main role is to give unconditional love? But what if that person is also a narcissist, that has done everything this man is doing to you, just in a different dynamic?

You break. Then you try to escape. But the guilt that has built up over the years of being convinced that everything is your fault makes you easily guilt tripped. The words twist around your limbs and sink your feet into the ground. But keep going, I promise you can get back up without them.

You have to work on yourself, fake it until you make it. But the reality of it is, you fake it, until it really breaks you. Then as a mum of two, that is devoted to correcting every negative parenting habit that was forced onto you, you have no choice but to pick every single piece back up, and figure out how to put it back together again.

Doesn’t sound pleasant, especially throwing in the two children that you are now a single parent to. Not one bit of coparenting in sight. Just continuous abuse and manipulation tactics from afar. You were alone.

Then life changed. You met your person. The one that does love you unconditionally. Who understands, accepts and nurtures everything about you. The one willing to support you through the unpacking of every bit of trauma. Watching you break to a point you have to accept defeat and ask for support, despite spending your whole life independent.

You are programmed to please people. And all of a sudden, you’re too poorly both mentally and physically to do it. Your children have only ever been supported by you, no stable grandparents, aunties, uncles or family friends. Just occasional visits and unhealthy atmospheres. But most of all silence.

They now have to accept that some days, mummy can’t walk to take them to school. Your new incredible support system, your person and his family can’t help enough. They love helping and nurturing. But your children, they are just children. Children that have had no choice but to know how to solely rely on you. They have never been taught to trust others, because there hasn’t been anyone to trust. Yes, there were family contacts and occasional meets, but never any regular contact.

They’re anxious. I feel their anxiety in the same way I used to feel my mums mood changes, piercing through my chest. It triggers me. It makes me feel as though I’m doing to them exactly what she did to me. I reassure them they are safe and supported through my own voices of doubt and distrust.

My brain is trying to keep me safe by reminding me what happened the last time I trusted someone to love me. But I know it’s different this time. I feel it in every part of my being. Life from the outside is pretty amazing, grounded me is happy, she’s content. My brain who has been blindly trying to guide me through these relationships using only feelings and thoughts is now struggling. It can’t understand how we’re supposed to be happy.

How can we be happy and loved when our thoughts don’t match our feelings. Hearing a noise at night has me holding my breath in silence, listening to the noise to see if I’m in danger. My chest burns and I freeze, frightened. It was a cat. How silly? Yet completely out of my control. My heart is still pounding and I can feel the blood rushing in my head. It’s okay it was just a cat remember. But it could have been anything couldn’t it. Everything sounds loud whilst you’re trying to listen, to see if you can still hear it. Has it got closer? Is it shouting? Now I look to my right, and the love of my life looks me in my eyes and asks if I’m okay.

Am I ok? How do I answer a question that I don’t know the answer to? I could say I don’t know. Or shrug. Or smile and say it’s nothing I’m okay. But this man loves me. He knows what my eyes mean, he reads them probably better than you’re reading this now. I’m unable to say any words that make sense to someone who could never imagine the directions my thoughts spiral in.

I see the pain in his eyes of wanting so desperately to help me, we have no clue where to start. The cycle of the guilt I feel inside starts again, my brain feels like the burden, that ruined my mums life. The blood continues gushing round my head and my heart . I tell myself he only cares and in my head I imagine what reason he will give for leaving me. Let’s face it, everyone else has, why wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t because he loves me.

People who were never traumatised can never imagine how we think, because our brains only work the way they do, because of the trauma.

A bus driver can’t drive a helicopter just because he drives a bus. Yes they have their own brain, own heart, own opinion and understanding, but that does not make them a professional in how yours works. Especially if they come from a safe background with very little trauma. It is not an easy concept to get anyone’s head around because honestly, how can someone appear completely happy and strong one day, and the next they don’t want to get out of bed? The next they can’t see one bit of value that they bring to life.

Fragmented memories a she sat slumped in despair over a life forgotten in the hope it would be better Toxic positivity they say is delusional positivity where we never give up and accept the negative facts of change. Without accepting the negative we can not act postively. There is always a silver lining never give up keep fighting but the phone call never comes hes not comming back to love cannot accept fate and move on. Its delusional love sick of never giving in that is sickness of the billion pound self help industry.

At thirty three, I sit in mourning I am mourning a decade. The time I gave Him. To Him.

Him.

Grieving how the time I spent flooded the gates of my being. How it tore the doors off their hinges Battered the shingles until they started to leak Shattered the glass leaving shards in my path.

Time I spent sweeping up. Hiding them from the world. The secret I shared with myself. Alone. But with Him.

The eggshells I walked upon Were shards all along Small pieces of me Kept broken by Him

At 33 I am building anew Broken pieces, salvaged for foundation My past: the dirt from which I grow anew. Free from him.