Her movements become jerky, and I know this is her coping, too. Trying to sweep it off like it’s nothing. But I see through her. It’s getting to her, and she’s at that point where she needs to choose.
Herself, or me?
“Obviously, you are still sick. I will pay for your treatment for a month. Other than that, I’m cutting you off.”
“Thank fucking god.” I snarl, food flying out of my mouth. “I’m going to prove you so wrong that I’m not crazy. Once I’m out, you will never see me again.”
That is the last time I see Mother before I force down the medication they give me. It is hell, but I’ve been through worse. I know I’m strong, I just have to prove it to myself—not to anyone else.
But for now, this is my rock bottom.
Xiaoyu
Healing is not linear like nature has no straight lines.
It is in a person’s nature to heal, so when we don't, there is always something lingering preventing it. Whether it’s past trauma, an abusive cycle, or even an innocuous tendency to automatically limit happiness—something is festering inside you that you need to let go.
It is painful, tragic to turn away from what I’ve known all my life—Mother and how she had built me—but I need to be my own person. I need to rip off this now thirty-five-year-old band-aid.
When I’d finally realized the band-aid was gone, I had just been staring at myself in the mirror. For once, I can look at myself freely. I looknormal. My hair is healthier. Fuller. I can even have long hair now, as opposed to before that I had to cut it short lest I lose them to extreme hairfall.
I don’t hate looking at myself anymore. I don’t see the little flabs on my belly, but instead, see the faint glitter whenever the light hits it just right. I take comfort in this, knowing my veins arefilled with memories. Memories of him. It’s why my skin seems so different in the dark.
When it’s completely black, my veins glow. Phosphorescent. It’s all I need to make certain I had not imagined everything that happened in Esoterra.
I left everything in that city to move to the countryside. I learned I cannot stand the bustling, busy streets. I preferred the slow, quiet life with my garden. I have a teaching job half an hour away, but other than that, I’m in my hut. Self-sustaining and eating homegrown foods.
Every time I touch the soil, it reminds me of his version of soil. Sometimes, his name escapes me like smoke. Today, though, something is different. I remember his name, but not what he looks like.
Datu.
His name bleeds into me, leaving me hungry again. Starving for something food can’t satiate. My jaw flexes before I straighten up to wash my hands. I have to go where people are. If I don’t, I’m gonna end up in my room, crying again.
I haven’t fully recovered from him—I don’t think I ever will. He is embedded into my soul. He is a part of me as much as my flesh, my bones, the guts that I’d neglected.
“Good morning, gloomy ray of sunshine!"
My eyes meet Rhys’. He’s a cute guy with a quirky hobby of clock-making. Unlike me, he’s very talkative and he’s never made it a secret he wants to see where a relationship with us can go. I usually just laugh it off and say I’d just been through a rough breakup. Technically, it’s true.
I don’tnotlike Rhys. He’s decent enough, but he just doesn’t havethatfactor. Thatbite. Also—apart from our zip codes—we don’t have anything in common.
The wind picks up, and the hairs at the back of my neck stand. It feels like a warning.
Xiaoyu
Excusing myself from Rhys, I head to the less remote side of where I live. I swear I hear the air breathe my name. The trees dance, branches sway as I walk down the path to town. Fear zips up my spine when something hisses behind me. I whip around, heart thundering in my chest.
An elderly couple strolls by, engrossed in their own conversation. Hand on my chest, I swallow thickly. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. My steps pick up, and before I know it, I’m racing toward the little café where I buy my tea filter.
“Hey, Rain,” Helen, the barista, greets me. “You okay? You look spooked.”
In this new town, I had introduced myself to them with an easier name. I had always been Xiaoyu—Mother had refused to give me a nickname—and it stuck. Most of the time, people would just completely butcher my name or make up a completely other one. So, why not make it easier for everyone?
I shuffle inside, trying to shake the feeling off me and failing.
“It’s bright out and I feel like I’m being followed.” I chuckle, but she doesn’t think this is funny.
“You want me to call authorities..?”
