Weak and still feeling exhausted, here she was, waking up and not wanting any part of it Her body ached, not from a sickness or exercise, but the constant tension left on her body. Uptight, stiff muscles, unable to find full relaxation, even as she slept. A fight going on in every part of her. As if to fend off some illness, she was there still trying to reject everything given to her, forced upon her. A will unrelenting, pressing forward, even through the parts of memories that came to her. Indecision being hated, but at the same time, unable to pull anything to pass. Her mind feeling just as immovable as her body felt, but there was that fight. A need to push herself up and out of the way. She just didn't want to bother. Lying here, comfortable, why did life push her like this? She wanted, even earned, better than this.
An entire life now complicated in ways she could never have imagined, after having done so much to make sure she held little to no complications. Death was one of those milestones in life. It wasn't a first, but a last. The finality to it, was one that she could respect, even at a young age. Where other people were speaking about how loved ones moved onto better places, she wasn't having it. A little girl in pigtails, staring wide eyed, with those dark pools of brown, round cheeks, and bright dress. Feet dangling off the seat, unable to touch the floor, as she alternated the swing in her legs and feet. Everyone in the world could tell her what they wanted to, explain the way they saw everything. And she would accept it, but never as her own. It was just another version of the truth, but she saw the lie.It was right there in their eyes.The question and uncertainty. Hope that it was a truth. One of those statements to make you feel better, as if she had fallen and cut her knee. A popsicle or a cookie. They were all bodies, and one day she would lose her own. A simple truth. Everyone would.
Now, lying here, she just wished she was actually surrounded by the dead. Left unfeeling and only lost there with her own to cope with. It was enough on its own. What do you do, what do you say, when you're not altogether yourself? She gave away as little as she could. Simplest speech that was available. Not in an effort to hide herself or what was going on as much as for the sake of not knowing who she was. That war that felt like was going on in her head between a fog of emotions that weren't her own. Everything a rival against itself.
It was a whole new day and not the kind she wanted. Instead, she was left calling in not to have to deal with the emotional world outside of these walls. What came through was bad enough and she had too hard of a time reeling it back in. Everything was effecting her, no matter how hard she tried. Mentally, all she could do was steel herself and attempt to prepare herself for what she was already coping with. This wasn't new now, it was just another day. As far as she was told, it would only last a week. A week and she would be alright. The world would change in whatever way it did and this wouldn't be her life.
Stomach rumbled, but still churned. The pain that held a deep ache from nothing within the confines of it all. A difficult enough situation to come to realize. Memories of actually being hungry like this, but not for the same reasons. The kind that left her not wanting to think about either. Emotions were not cared for, unwanted to the bitter end. Diving too far into the past, it was never a good thing. Mother's Day had been enough. Ignoring the world and how it treated everyone. A few respectful comments, as it went by, but that was as far as it all went for her. Just nothing for her own or from her own, not that the woman would know how to find her now. If anything, she believed that she never looked back at all.
Breathing steady, she placed her hands over her face. Later peeking at the world, which was currently her snow white ceiling, through the spaces between her fingers. A wave of dark hair clashing against her ivory pillows. There was no change, except a voice in her head. You can do this. They were just the way she imagined them being said before when she read them across the screen of her phone. Enough to make her want to move, even as she stilled that much more, waiting for the worst to happen. Pessimism holding more pull after recent events.
Dropping her hands, she forced herself up onto her elbows. Light brimming through the room, but not overly so. It was later than it should have been. Sleep had taken her in and out of consciousness, but now she had to get up. There was more to do than to lie there, even if she didn't feel up to eating. Food could wait, but maybe some water wouldn't be so bad. The last thing she needed was for dehydration to set in. She could take care of herself, this was one certainty she held. It wasn't the way it always needed to be, but it was how she did like it. Not impossible, or fully unwavering, but what felt right and comfortable. It would change, adapt later on, but not now, not just yet.
Lightheaded, her shaky feet held the floor in such a way that she quietly wondered if it wasn't what was holding her up. Cool air against her skin, she moved. Slow breaths, she wasn't going to let it happen again. Fight it until the end. Too bad she was fighting everything, not all things consciously. A hand going to her mouth, the feel of air expelling as there was a wave of feeling. A knocking at her own walls, barriers she held in place through feeling and care. The hand moved away and pulled her hair out of her face again. A hair tie would hold it in place soon, just in case. But first, it was time to rinse out her mouth. To bring home the point that she could and would make it through this, to the point of this all disappearing. Little did she notice how items she passed began to hover behind her. Her thoughts strictly upon the upward motion of her stomach. At least, until that one fated moment where she turned around, jumping back but never falling. Her own feet hovering above the floor, where other items crashed to the floor, she did not.
Where there had been less panic that set in over the telekinesis, there was a difference in her. She still didn't have full understanding of what she was working with. How these abilities came to pass or what would pop up with anything but surprise. Whether she was Rachel or Raven anymore, she didn't care. She just wanted answers on how to make this better. Not being stuck hovering above her living room floor for two hours before catching what sort of release button there was on this haphazard of a power, she was tired of this already. Her stomach barely held its own and she was hungry. A need for self preservation, but also for others.
The trip was just an added touch of nausea to lead her to relieving that bile that scraped at the back of her throat. Between the emotions that came from the tight space, she did what she could to keep her mind on the fur between her fingers. Not the dog person or animal lover whatsoever, but this was where she found herself. It was a humbling piece that she wasn't going to admit to. Simply put, hoard it for her own. A peaceful substance that led her to keeping a distinction between what she was feeling and what was real. A distraction in a form that seemed the least likely. Without knowledge of the place other than the tiny morsels locked in her head, mental tidings for images that it brought about. Knowledge that she only hoped to stop suppressing as a means of fear, but how was she supposed to stop?
Closing her eyes, she hoped and craved some peace of mind that would allow for her to open up whatever flood gates there were without losing herself. But there was that piece, that small part of her that held fast. The fear that she would be lost in all of this. That allowing one to the front of this war meant that one would be lost. What if he was wrong? What if everyone was wrong and this would turn out so different? Because she wasn't normal. These memories, these flakes that fell into her own vision, the dreams that came to her in the darkest of night calling out to her. Like the cold, decrepit fingers of death reaching out for her. A calling of sorts for her to understand the hell she had once faced, that she would be left to relive again.
This wasn't where she wanted to be. She wanted to run, to flea from this life and this world to not be here and part of some reckoning that would be to come. Two sets of thoughts blended as one with its own stories and ideas on how things would go about. Her own fears spurring the new from the old. It gave her enough of a panic, that she couldn't just let go. Fur between fingers bringing her back, in and out of this all. More on edge than ever, she needed air, to breathe, not just to eliminate what little was left in her stomach again. Her life solely unprepared for this new passenger. Looks passed to a familiar face, just to wonder how much he realized. What parts of her he knew better than she did himself. Because that's what best friends did. Like parts of a puzzle that just fit together, even if they weren't the same. It wouldn't matter, the experiences or the jagged edges of the piece. She knew he was there and she was thankful for that much. It kept her tethered to more than strangers or those that didn't understand her.
Every sight and sound, itching at memories that laid just beneath the surface. Each screaming to have their own moment, to be paid attention to like a child seeking attention. To be looked at, noticed, seen for what they really were. A life undone and redone. She knew more than her fair share about restarts. People and things that others didn't. A quiet understanding that she would allow, even if it was for her own sanity. But she wanted this to work, for it to be fixed on her terms. That was the major issue. The fight was due to this all not being on her own terms. She would have to get over this to make it to the next component, to understand what exactly was going on around her. She understood the meaning of not being in control, and it was the most difficult. The fight leading to this back and forth, tug of war in her mind. A war zone that wasn't spoken of, only felt. A fight to be held, while there were still other issues knocking on the walls of the walls. Seeing the destination, she questioned again if she could win it. Worse, which she was she now?
The area was brimming with an energy she couldn't describe, but allowed her the distraction she still wanted. To not question each of these things, outside of how to take that step towards control. Meditation, it was the major factor that she recalled. The one that stood out the most. She had to catch herself from staring, at people, places, moments. It was better to stay quiet, to take that corner that was meant for her, and to make something of it. Her own.
There was this feeling that felt right with the night. Not that it was her own place, where she was meant to be. But the still of it, the quiet that drew her in. The natural feel to it, as the moon and stars brought about just the appropriate amount of light for her. To test and push her limits, to push and pull for some semblance of control with all of this. If she was going to change, and hold no choice in this matter, she wanted to do it on her terms. Acceptance one way or another would only come from this. It was at least a point that could be agreed upon. She wasn't alone here, yet, she held her space and ground. It didn't matter who she did or didn't know, things weren't whatever it was she saw. Those little components that left her feeling as though she were standing outside of her own mind.
Floating, legs pulled together, she tried to recreate what she had seen. The vision of what felt right. Her phone screen well lit, as she scrolled through Google looking for whatever information she could find to help her now.