He kept her together, kept her from her own panic. It was still there though, eating at her. The feelings piling up inside that weren't spoken, not taken out of context or grasped the way she wanted. What was so wrong with her or the world that everything was like this now? Why would this happen to them? What crime had she committed against life and death to have gained this? She wasn't the lucky type of person, not even close. She was smart enough to understand and realize that something triggered this, the need to find out was kept quiet. Reigning in those feelings, condensing them as if they were blankets to shove into a plastic bag and vacuum out the air.
By the end of the trip, she understood how it worked. Not every single detail, but it was there. The thoughts, the push for power. It was all within her. She felt like the biggest nut case alive. Nothing revolved around her. Not one section or part of life. Nothing that ever was anything of worth. Attention was one thing, but it wasn't everything. She didn't want or need it. Asking for it, never worked out. Change, a shift in how it all went. The when she wanted to be, but not the where.
Digging through her own items in her boxes, she rifled through every scrap of paper, each picture, everything she could find for a time or date. There were so many options, things to be said. Everything she wanted. Repercussions be damned. This life was not a movie. This life was barely a life at all. None of it could be real anyway. But in the end, she couldn't make it work. It bothered her, kept her awake at night. Memories trifled with, pondered over how to make this change. To have what she wanted and not be here. To have not been one to suffer through all of this over her own guilty actions. The kind she had long ago opted to disbelieve she held any guilt over. But if they didn't have that to hold against her, maybe she would have meant something. Maybe she would have meant more and not some worthless thing that was tossed aside at signs of trouble. A place to point fingers for blame.
She hurt now more than ever. Lying in bed, staring at the wall. A little girl exchanging snarky remarks with her own father. The image of a woman that she once called her mother on the porch watching overhead. There they were though, talking while he was there by the hood of the car. She was his smartass kid. Even then she was proud of that, as if it were some great accomplishment. She never missed her mark, not with him. Always so calm and at ease. But this was that moment in time that she missed more than anything. To have a family that was only hers. To have that which was given to her and all she had ever known. It didn't matter if it appeared to be some sort of sham in the end. Things changed, people did, all due to the circumstances. But if she had only been better somehow here. Maybe there would have been something.
It was the first time she could recall crying. As she stared at the wall in thought. There was some sort of deja vu about this moment, but the last time she did this herself, it was so long ago. She willed it away, but it came anyhow. As a point in time that needed to be dealt with for her. Issues uprooted to be handled. Either as produce to be washed or tossed. There needed to be a change, because she needed to know how to cope with this. Her choice in life was always to try and treat everything like a robot. Continue on with her actions and let it all ride. Hit a button and allow a new person to take the forefront of this.
Pulling the blankets from her own form, she sat up and wiped her eyes. Water may help. It was worth a shot. There was no sound, no special light show. But as she turned her head, there it was. A bubble of light, strange fusing of light mixing and whirling around. It began so small, but began to grow. Her eyes focused on it, almost as if it were drawing power from her. She didn't know or care. There was something so beautiful and innocent about it, but so foreboding. One of those moments in a horror movie where you begin to suspect aliens and its your time to die. She was ready and willing to be taken now, it didn't matter. There was no escape, given what happened in Vegas.
Once it grew to her height, nearly touching the floor, she stood up and moved towards it. A hand reaching out to touch it. Just a graze with her fingertips. It looked warm, but maybe it was cold. There were so many thoughts to have about this, but she was just too drawn to it to bother with any of them. Fingers wiggled on through, passing through whatever possible flesh or energy this thing held. The rest of her following suit. A new breath taken as she passed through. Everything was the same, but different. This was the same place, but not. It was empty, as she felt lucky for that much. Too empty, and being repaired or was that built?
In her pajamas and bare feet, she tried to be careful across the floor. It was like this outside too. A difference in everything. Where had she gone now? There was a tinge of fear caught in her throat, mixed with full blown excitement.
Rachel couldn't think straight, pull enough together to muster any real thought beyond the fact that she needed to get away from here. She needed to get home. What home didn't matter as much as the sake of the word. Pushing open the glass door of the booth, her bare feet slapped the pavement. Sidewalk being even cooler than the air around her. The panic still left in her, exhausting her, but giving her new life to keep going. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going, as much as just trying to get away from some unseen force. The force that would catch up to her, as she closed her eyes for only a short moment, she was about to turn a corner. It was the worst time to do this, but it happened without thought. Until there it was again. Running into a random person's shoulder there rounding the corner. But this, this was more right? Her surroundings they called out to her, speaking of being home, but not completely. Still on the streets of Boston, just another day. A newspaper stand found empty, not that she held anymore change. The previous needing to asked for, with a complete dodging of questions.
The entire night, she could barely contain herself. There was no one to tell. She could barely believe this herself. None of this was real. What was she caught inside of? She knew where to go, but she didn't want to be weak. What if he wasn't real? What if all of this was imagined? She could be in some coma, lost to the world, a vegetable. She could be in a mental institute so high on medication, forced to slumber and dream these things. A change in her mental state that she was long over do for. A life that held little meaning and no actual peace because she walked away from most everything. It's all she knew anymore, even though she tried so hard not to. Where else would she have been able to go? She didn't need to be saved, she needed to pull herself together. But her mind, it kept going back to those voices. The ones that she would never forget and hadn't heard in so long. It had been over ten years. And now, all she wanted to do was go running back into it, even for as much as it scared her to her core. What sort of person did this make her? Even by her own standards.
A night and day to pass with no sleep. Only a twenty minute nap that wasn't worth anything, before dawn. Her body was pushing for more, in some vague attempt to keep up with her mind. Trying to handle work with this held its own difficulty. Nothing sat right, not even eating. Her nerves were shot. Night two of no sleep began to come to pass. Strange things taken notice of. Views in her own eye sight. It was as if ink were moving around her. It's own cloudy haze. It began to come from her, to seep through the edges of the seat she sat in. It didn't make sense though, it wasn't realistic. It had to be a delusion. Sleep deprivation, even though it hadn't been that long. Not that she had been sleeping so great in the first place. Comfort was one thing, but having to deal with the juggle of thoughts and ride this shock wave as long as she had, it was no real surprise that she held any sort of trouble sleeping.
The darkness moved over her, but without touching. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. What was this now? Was this her time? Why was this happening now? Because of where she went? Was this now some sort of inky octopus coming to end her for playing with time? She didn't do anything. Not that she was going to tell it that. Words caught in her throat, as she waved a hand in its direction before falling back in the chair. On her back, she winced as air expelled from her lungs. The noise proved pain, of what she would be feeling later.
It followed her, slowly. With each move, it moved the same way. As if it were being called, watching each movement before it was to take her. Pulling together more shadows from the room into itself. Becoming bigger, stronger, she she still backed away from it, staring in awe on the floor. Carpet was felt until she met the kitchen's tile floor. This place was too small, but it suited her. She was one little woman living on her own. But now she held a bigger issue and it was staring in front of her. Pulling into some large black bird and it worried her even more. No words, no sounds, just waiting to do something to her as if it were what haunted her worst nightmares. The kind she never held.
Backing into the cabinets, her head hit first creating its own set of deja vu. Thoughts, foggy memories she deemed dreams that didn't make any sense. Hauntings of a sick week that held no sense. Swallowing hard, she looked for any exit she could find, but nothing, there was no source of light that bled through this darkness. Where did this come from and why had it seeped from her? Moving slowly, she tried to pull herself at least onto the balls of her feet as it leaned towards her. Eyes wide, she moved to the left as fast as she could around a corner. A random pot thrown at the bird as she moved. Speed was wanted more than the need to look back and see if that had done anything. No, that was how people died in horror movies.
The large bird broke apart piece by piece, scattering into many smaller parts. Birds all coming for her, as she ran for her bedroom. The door closed and locked, desperately looking for an adequate exit. Finding not one, not even a fire exit, she noticed it seeping from the door. Each open space, it was pouring through, inching for her again. Stepping back, she fell onto her bed, watching and needing to get away with no place to do so. The front door had not been an option, but she wasn't thinking and didn't hold these incentives. One horror movie version of death swapped for another. The entire room was engulfed in darkness. There was no place for light, as it surrounded her.
And just like that, as she waited for the worst to come, nothing did. She was covered in the one place she felt safe. As if she were hiding in her own closet. It was darkness, quiet, nothing to worry or fear. Whatever this was, it still bothered her, but it protected her all the same. As she called it back, it pulled to her, away from the walls and every inch of the room it touched. It came back to her. A home away from home. A missed feature that she wasn't willing to let go of yet. But it was going to toy with her sanity as she felt lost. This couldn't be real. This didn't happen in real life.
The darkness pouring back out from her, returning to blacking out the room. Let it have her. It was time to give up, as she fell back on the bed.