Cha[ter 74 : Tired of being tired

Esmee let me cry for a long time without interruption, if it were not for her steady deep breathing beside my bed I would have sworn she had left me there. My face hurt with the crying, the tears that had fallen on my checks had dried and were now sore and uncomfortable, my eyes stung and my lip tasted funny because I had been biting them so much. My breathing came in short shudders that made my body shake and my hair stuck to the sides of my sweaty face. In short I looked like a ship wreck.

 “Mi, can I help?” Esmee finally asked gently, placing her hand on the small of my back. I was hot and clammy after all the crying and my clothes stuck uncomfortably to my skin. It was nice feeling to have Esmee’s cool hand placed there and I managed to hold my shuddering breaths for a moment and lay completely still not wanting to disturb the hand on my back.

 “Do you want to talk about it Mi?” Esmee said removing her hand from my back. Talk about what? There was nothing to talk about. My feelings took on no words to vocalize. There was no reason for my constant despair, for why I always felt so damn tired all of the time; for why nothing mattered any more. Yes the loss of my sister nearly destroyed me but I Had felt the dark despair long before the day she died. I had felt the harshness of metal digging into the fragile skin long before Arabella, had left me forever. What was my excuse for all the times back then? Maybe I didn’t deserve to be happy, maybe I was faulty in some way and just maybe even though everyone tried I couldn’t be fixed.

 "What’s bothering you Mi? I’m safe person, you can talk to me” I turned my red, sticky head on the pillows so I could look at her face. She smiled sweetly at me then almost instinctually she leant forward and swept the hair that had stuck to my face behind my ears like a mother would do to her child. I wondered if she had any children. It was possible of course she must have been in her late twenties to early thirties. She would of suited children; she had the mothering role to her.

 Esmee’s smile was beautiful even though there was evidence of her bright red lipstick on the edges of her teeth it didn’t’t matter, Her beauty made the hole within me hurt again, why couldn’t’t I have her face? But I deserved the scar on mine. I deserved much worse; I would never forgive myself for being the one who lived.

 “I wish I was dead.” I breathed softly more to myself then Esmee. In fact it was so soft I was surprised she heard it but her face was concerned at my wish, she obviously didn’t see my life the way I did. She obviously didn’t see the girl I really was.

 “Why Sweet heart?” Esmee asked

 I shifted my weight slightly so I was more sat up and started to play with a loose thread on the blanket, while I tried to keep the tears from arriving into my eyes again. I just wanted the pain to be over.

 “I can’t do it anymore.” I sniffed and before I realized the tears had started falling again before I could hastily rub them away; My tears where pointless. “It has hurt for so long.I can’t remember the last time I was happy. The last time I didn’t’t have to fake a damn smile.” I squeaked as two more tears rolled down the side of my face but this time I did not bother to wipe them away, more would replace them anyway. “ I mean look where  I have ended up. No one has watched me pee or get changed since I was a little girl. Is this what my life has come to?” I shot a desperate glance into Esmee’s face begging her to understand before I said the next bit. “It’s kind of like having a terminal illness. It strips you of everything in the end, and it hurts; it hurts so much.” I gripped again at the void in my stomach. “I guess I would rather die with dignity and in one piece. Instead it looks like I will be ashamed, degraded and broken.” I sighed deeply and rested my head back up against the pillows closing my eyes. I was tired of being so damn tired.