What Follows

`i.cry. for the life you’ve lived and for the one you didn’t. `

Having darkness melt away my reality, is like having all the sounds I look forward to- birds chirping, waves crashing and wind chimes singing- get drowned away by a single thunderclap. A clap so consuming, so intense, I forget the sweetness of what it masked, remembering nothing but the lingering fear it leaves hanging in the still air.

And maybe this is how it feels to get here in the middle of a spiritual tornado with blasts and blasts of very unpleasant events, slicing my nonexistent heart with the fear of the unknown.

And maybe getting here is how it feels to have a panic attack. A sense of foreboding followed by tight breaths, shaky hands and touch-touching your throat and thinking that maybe the whole universe got shoved in there and you just can’t breathe.

But again, maybe it’s just the effect of the magma-like, heart-melting (in a very unromantic manner) and eye-stinging betrayal. Maybe it’s because I mean ‘my life has been nothing but a lie’ when I say ‘I don’t understand’.

And boy, do I not understand.

And maybe it’s my need to find someone to talk to when all I have is myself to cry to for reasons only the dead would understand.

So yes, I’m back at the Darkroom, alone, with the darkness having a staring contest with me. It looks deep in my eyes and I blankly stare into its pits. And just about when I’m at the apex of my hopelessness, a spark appears in front of me, followed by a faint, distant light.

My eyes follow the light, my mind catapulting to the conclusion that this somehow is Tobias, even though I know that it can be anyone who killed themselves this month.

I’m about to approach the ‘light/dead person’ when I simply realize that if it’s Tobias, he’ll come looking for me.

I shuffle in my place restlessly and look around, hoping that he’ll just pop up with his ridiculous smile and a jumping Benji by his side. I click my tongue and decide to go for him myself because ‘waiting’ is just another name for ‘getting-isolated-and-skinned-by-one’s-thoughts’.

And I’ve just had enough.

I cautiously ‘walk’ in the Darkoom, hoping that I’m actually going somewhere and not just walking about my original position. There’s no way of being sure that I’m making progress at all due to the lack of direction.

So I call out his name.

I do it thoughtlessly, not sure of my unsteady voice, not sure if it’s loud enough, if it’s reaching him in this hollow, seemingly endless darkness.

I clear my throat in apprehension. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what could be waiting for me in this darkness. But even that risk is much merciful than just spending time with my thoughts.

I put out the hands I can’t see in front of me, knowing it’s useless against anything but a barrier it can’t penetrate. Simply because my hands can’t feel but can be stopped.

I call out his name again, louder and steadier, scanning the darkness for the light that had just appeared. And just finding nothing in response to all my trials, unveils the anxiety pressed to my sternum and wraps it around my throat.

What if I never get to find Tobias and Benji? What if this is all I get?

I blink as if it would make a difference. Dammit, the darkness of my eyelids might be brighter than the Darkoom’s.

“C’mon, c’mon," I whisper to myself, trying not to bawl my eyeballs out, trying to control my ricocheting mind, trying to stay optimistic for a second.

I gulp and it’s almost too difficult with the sobs stifled in my throat. I gulp and tell myself that everything will be alright, that it just sucks to be dead like this. That I’ll find them.

My heart stops when I notice some light in my peripheral vision. I quickly turn and Tobias’ name hurtles out of my mouth.

When the light gets brighter in the direction I’m walking in, I sniff and smile brittly with immense relief.

“Tobias!” I call out when there are a few feet between us and the figure immediately turns.

I find myself face to face with a girl in messy dark hair and bluish lips. She stares at me and my smile drops with my heart.

Her eyes widen and her head tilts almost abnormally before she screams like a banshee. I was sure I should’ve passed out from the spike of horror she passed through my guts, but I stand, mentally paralyzed as she seals her lips, directs her eyes to the ground and starts laughing loudly, maniacally.

My breaths come out irregular, coarse as I command my legs to move. Just about when the girl is about to pounce on me, I’m pulled away by my arm.

A surprisingly furious Tobias is dragging me away as my chest heaves down, releasing all its sobs in relief. I whisper his name when we’re far enough from the girl and he whips his head in my direction with a prominent frown.

“Are you out of your mind?!” He asks, his eyes weary and his almost artificial red lips frowning. “What were you doing?”

My sobs come to an abrupt stop when I pick up on the strain in his voice and the tension in his shoulders.

“I was looking for you,” I tell him with a sniff, trying to search his face for a reason behind his unjustified anger.

“Well, don’t!" He explodes and I shudder at his voice’s thickness and seriousness. ”Okay?" He breathes out and Benji whines.

“I was looking for you,” I repeat absently, shakily, so so taken aback by the sharpness of his tone. I almost have nothing to tell him in response.

He inhales deeply, exasperatedly, running a hand through his hair and I almost want to cry. I want to cry for his ginger hair that he has pulled into a bun at the back of his head and at his high cheekbones that accentuate his frown and forehead creases. He suddenly looks scary.

And it’s so confusing how the idea of crying now sounds more painful than ever. Like, okay, I know I cried about Sierra, Mom, Jake and Joshua, but this sorta crying? Crying for a harsh Tobias? It sounds different to my eyes and heart.

It sounds painful because he’s my very last, dead string. The last string I thought I could count on when all my other strings seem to have failed me.

What has happened?

“Seriously, Roseline?” He scoffs and I can’t believe his once soft face can wear a mean, poker face so well. ”Looking for me?” He shakes his head. “What’s the point?” He asks and I almost faint. “What’s the bloody point of you looking for me?”

He shoots daggers for eyes in my direction.

“I don’t know,” I say and it’s like I’ve forgotten why I’m here in the first place. Like I’ve forgotten to tell him that I came here, to him, seeking refuge from my problems. I never thought it would feel like that.

“Who knows?” He asks and I don’t fail to notice the tears filling his eyes. It disarms me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him nevertheless. I ask him about the change he seems to have wholeheartedly embraced. About the hopelessness that seems to have resided in his ribcage. “What happened?”

“Death happened,” He says, his chest rattling with the words. “And I just-” He closes his eyes, inhales deeply. “I just- I want space.” He looks up at me, not smiling, unassuming.

I stare at him, having no clue how I’m standing so still, how I’m still existing because those are exactly the very same words many people have repeated around me. Then, ′they need some space’, I’d tell myself, ′I exhaust them. I demand so much of their attention’.

I try to seem nonchalant and indifferent every time. Every time, I pretend that I’m not grilling myself for where I could’ve possibly gone wrong.

So just like that, my lips do their thing; they try pulling themselves into a smile. That very smile I did every time someone decided they’ve had enough of me.

But for some reason, I couldn’t do it (maybe the weight of the day is concentrated in the corners of my mouth?). I couldn’t smile.

“Yeah, of course,” I say.

His shoulders drop and a sigh escapes his lips. “You just- I just-” He exhales. “I hope you understand.”

Understand that I’m a nuisance? Yes, very well.

I wave a dismissive hand. “No pressure,” I say.

“Don’t come looking for me,” He adds, his lips sighing against the words and I wonder if what he said is a longer synonym for ‘goodbye’. I wonder if he wants me to actually leave him and never come back. I wonder if he expects me to be okay with it. “Don’t look for me.”

“But-”

"Don’t," Tobias says weakly. “I’ll find you when I’m ready.”

I stare at him, barely holding myself together, barely keeping my spine from snapping and my knees from collapsing. This can’t get any worse. So I scoff.

“That’s not fair,” I tell him like it burns. It burns. “Why are you distancing yourself all of a sudden?”

The straightforwardness of my question leaves him with no answer. If he has expected an easy, light-hearted conversation, he should’ve known better. He should’ve known that those conversations are preserved for the living.

He looks down. “I’m not obliged to answer.”

“No.” I bluntly choke out. “You are.” Those are the only pathetic, powerless words that hurtle out of my mouth. “You can’t just leave like that. We can’t just...lose each other!” I explain my deepest fear that he seems to be indifferent to for some reason.

“Roseline.” He tells me. “We’re dead-”

“I know!" I say despite the pain sprouting from my insides and colouring my every corner a deep-ocean blue. “I know and I know that we can’t do anything about it. I know that it sucks and that we hate this." I point around wildly. “But-” I sniff. “But we can hate this together.”

“You really think this will last?” Tobias scoffs and I don’t know what he wants me to say. A few beats of silence rush in the darkness around us. “Well, that’s a bloody joke.” He continues, shaking his head. “You really think that we deserve the mercy of friendship?” He scoffs again.

I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you mean?” I gulp before glancing at his unfocused eyes and fidgety fingers. “Tell me, what do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I shake my head. “It wasn’t me who wanted this ′friendship’!” I explode and can tell I’m already crying. ”Okay? It was you from the very beginning.”

“I didn’t-”

"Oh?” I sniff, frowning deeply. “You want to walk away after I’ve let you into my most personal moments? Secrets? My most painful ones?”

“Roseline,” Tobias whispers, trying to reach out to me with his goddamn beautiful hazels. ”Please."

“I can’t believe this!” I yell at him. “I can’t believe you’re such a... jerk!” I grimace. “I can’t believe I trusted you!”

"Rose-”

“Do not call me that!” I snap. He shuts his eyes. “You know what? Just go!”

Tobias looks up and swallows. “You don’t understand-”

"Yeah? Tell me. Tell me what I don’t understand. Tell me why you’re walking away. Tell me why you’ve always been a closed book!” I pant out.

Tobias looks at me like it’s physically impossible to answer.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I say quietly, my eyes lingering over his beaten figure. “I understand so very well.”

Then, dimensionless, I turn and run away from him, wanting the darkness to engulf me and his echoing voice that’s calling out my name. There’s no way I’ll return. No way I can handle seeing his eyes hiding tonnes of secrets he doesn’t entrust me with.

I will not be toyed with.

I run farther with blurs of lights crossing my peripheral vision, belonging to more dead, damned people. I run and challenge the Darkoom into an end. I challenge it because I know that I feel no pain and will not stop running until the end of time.

I wonder if this darkness is infinite and expanding like the universe. I wonder if it isn’t just sucking me in deeper and deeper like a black hole.

With a sharp, sudden gasp, I stumble over something. And it might just be another dimension.