"If you have a problem, just speak up, dam**t!"
Jennie's voice tore through the air from outside. She sounded jagged—a mix of sharp anger and a hurt that ran deep.
[I know I was being difficult back then], I thought, watching the scene unfold like a ghost. [But even now, I can't find the words for what I'm feeling.]
Jennie stormed inside, her footsteps heavy and deliberate. Her sisters hovered near the doorway, watching with wide, uncertain eyes. We were no strangers to bickering, but this? This was different. This was a fracture.
"What is wrong with you?"
she demanded, her voice rising with every word.
"Did any of us ever say anything to hurt you? I don't know why you're being like this! ELENA!"
"I don't want to do this anymore!" I screamed back.
The words felt clumsy, failing to capture the weight in my chest, but they poured out anyway, fueled by salt and tears.
"I'll just pack my bag and go home! It's too much... it's all too much! I'm dealing with so many things in my life right now, and this? This is the breaking point!"
Jennie rushed toward the bed where my past self lay huddled. She reached down and forced me upward, her grip iron-clad as she pelted me with the same frantic questions. My body was a wreck of sobs, my eyes darting everywhere but her face.
[I'm sorry, Jennie, I'm sorry you have to witness us like this again, and I'm sorry I'm so paralyzed.] my consciousness whispered.
"You guys never understand!"
I continued to shout, the desperation raw.
"I'm working so hard! I'm trying to adjust, but why do you have to complain about everything?"
Jennie's fingers dug into my shoulders. It was a grip born of her own pain, a physical manifestation of her need to reach me. She began to speak, her voice thick as she recounted the history we shared—the hurdles we had cleared, the moments we had survived together.
But then, the world began to fray at the edges.
Her voice softened into an unrecognizable hum. The room grew dim. I knew this memory; I knew we were supposed to hug, that everything was supposed to be resolved in this moment. But the script was changing.
We're supposed to be hugging. Everything is supposed to be sorted out.
["What's happening?"]
I panicked, my inner voice echoing in the void of my own mind. ["Why can't I hear anything?"]
I began to thrash against the walls of my own soul, screaming for the man who had brought me here.
"What's happening?! I can't hear Jennie! My memory... it's fading! Help me! Whoever you are, help me!"