opensure

 

Flashbacks of those winding roads. The ones littered with bodies. People. Cars. Ambulances in ditches. I’m dodging the bodies. Do I stop to see if they’re breathing? Do I get out and help?

Nah, they’re not real. They’re just bumps in the road. Bumps I have to avoid. No need to stop and check for a pulse. I can barely feel mine.

Speeding. Closing my eyes. Foot heavy on the break. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This. Isn’t. Happening. The breaks are useless. The impact of my heavy foot causing more damage.

Eyes. Closed. No memory of slowing down. No memory of the pause. Parking. Getting out. Walking. No memories of that. Just feelings. Pains. Tingling in my legs.

Flashbacks of the helpers. Those people. The brown eyed ones. Dark skinned and gentle. Holding my limbs for me. Dragging me out of the car. Moving my legs. Stumbling with each step. Keeping my arms in place. Holding me upright. Up. Right. Through the tunnels. The stairs. Up. Right. Round the corner. Three flights we climbed. Or was it four?

My body heavy and limp. Restlessly limp.

Flashbacks of the lights. Those harsh bright lights. The table. The cutting board. The blurry faces. Those fair skinned believers. Signing papers. Blue eyed deceivers. The ones who strapped me down. Stole my breath. Stripped my humanity and left it in a plastic bag. Suffocating and growing mold. Giving me bruises in my sleep. Taking pleasure from my pain. Those ones.

The white devils.

My body quakes at the thought of them.

Bones turn to jello.

Throat swells. Chest heavy.

Just a blink. And I’m back. A safe house. A house. A Safe. A key. A plastic illusion of safety. This is only temporary.

What’s in the safe? Treasures? Money? Food? Are there weapons? Drugs? Tools? What’s in there? Is it really safe? Is it worth protecting? Are you never gonna use it?

Time to drift. No need for answers. Abandon ship.

This cycle.

Infinite.

Closure? You want closure?

Oh. Sure.

Closure.is.An open sore.

 

 

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