. hope in falsehood . [Python&Cass]

I swim deeper and deeper into the depths of my mind, into the place where only pain and misery comes, and into the place where only my insanity can hold me strong and stop me from breaking, I am so very close to shattering. I’m slipping slippingslippingslipping, further and further into the pain of my mind, and I’m letting it hold me because without that pain I have nothing to cling to, and without that hand to keep me strong I will surely die. I will break and I will slip off the edge of that piece of glass that I walk along. That glass has always been what has separated me from insanity and the sane, but now I find myself tumbling into the darkness, long dark trendils reach forth and wrap themselves around me. Slowly I am beginning to lose myself.

The room was dark, with only the light of the T.V giving it any warmth. But as I stare at the flickering images, I feel no warmth from the cold distant figures; I feel no happiness at the images that is all that gives the room light. There is nothing happy about what is happening on that screen. There is nothing enjoyable what is happening to those kids. I lean heavily on the door frame to the room. My body ached, and every movement seemed to take so much energy and pain. Moving was something I feared. It took up too much energy and left me more tired than I had felt for years. And slowly every movement that I do seems to take so much longer.

My feet slide over the ground as I step into the living room, where two of my siblings sitting perched on the old tattered couch we had. Their eyes stayed glued to the television watching the tiny figures, weave through there dance of death. I didn’t understand why they watched. He was going to die. Klaus had no chance against any of them. I had forced myself not to watch. But sadly it was not for Klaus that I didn’t watch. It was for my sanity, and the fact that the boy in the screen held my life in his hands. He had Kofa with him, and without Kofa I was nothing.

My hands clutch the edge of the couch as the exhaustion set in once more. I could feel it. The creeping feeling of death. I was slowly letting myself go, eating less, drinking less. Doing nothing to keep a functioning body alive. And slowly it was showing, my movements were pained and left me exhausted all the time, every morning took so much longer for me to just get up. Walking up was a struggle, my eyes always wanted to stay shut tight, they wanted me to let the darkness grasp me, and let me sink into the depths of the blackness and die. I didn’t fear my impending death. It would let me escape from the misery that I lived in, but I still found myself fighting it. I still found myself waking up in the morning and struggling to my feet.

I hadn’t given up, yet.

I fall deeper into the depths of the madness that has wrapped itself around me. When I look down at my arms I see pale white skin that s almost see through, skin with so many cuts and grazes that the fine lines of red appear so bright and real, that not even the veins that snake their way up my skin can compare. Dirt stains the pale skin, and it sticks out showing just how unkept, and dirty I am. I no longer take the time to keep myself clean and pure. What is there pure in this life? What joy and happiness do I have to hope on? Because there is none. There will be only a dead Klaus at the end of this trip and nothing else, but heart ache.

I believe that when I see his dead body. That will be the final straw and I am sure by days end I will find myself dead. But perhaps Kofa will return fast enough to save me. I don’t think this. She has left me. I gave her away, but the tears that fall endlessly from my dead eyes say otherwise. I ache for her return. I cry day and night for her, because she is all I have and Marina Goravich cannot do anything without the ghostly girl. I spend each and every day curled up in a small ball, as the pain races through my body, because it is so great that I can do nothing, but cry and stay locked in my world where only I can see, where only Kofa can save me.

My eyes flicker to Hopper. My older brother. The boy who is so strong and brave, but as I stare at him with dead eyes, he looks nothing like the boy that holds this family together. He looks just as broken as everyone around him, he looks just as torn, sad and pain filled as the rest of us, but surely not more than me? For I have lost the part of me that keeps me running, the part of me that allows escape from insanity and the fits of pain that lock my body. Then there is Jamarion, sitting like the cocky idiot he is. I feared Klaus’s death because when he dies I will be his last resort to turn to for bullying, I will become his new victim.

My hand races over my skin, as my eyes flicker over to the television. It was the first time I had looked. To my horror Klaus is on scream, and I have to fight down the scream that races through me, and valiantly fights its way up my throat. I choke out a sob as I see his frail figuring.


And I hoped that he was alright.

”Kofa isn’t there, it’s just Klaus! She doesn’t even fucking exist! Now get out of the way!”

As his hands wrap around my chest I feel the fire in me rise, a fire that I had long since believed to be dead. My eyes blaze with a hate that I had never felt before, it bubbles below my skin, itching at me, biting me begging me to be released. A heat rises through my body and spreads across my cheeks in a colour that stains my skin in such a way that I even hesitate. Such a colour has been lost in me for a long time, and like the sun as it sets and disappears from the sky the colour had drained from my skin, but now as I find this new fight in me, this new war that I feel I must fight it rises through my body like a battle horse as it prepares for the charge. I turn myself around in his arms and look at Jamarion in the eye. A wild fire blazes in my eyes as I stare at him, looking him in the eyes, looking at the pain that flashes before his eyes, he missed Klaus, but he did not understand the pain that I felt, the wounds that rip into me every day. He knew nothing.

”Let go of me.” I snarled, tearing myself away from him, but I was not as strong as I had once been, and my pulling just weakens me as he shoves me onto the couch to sit beside him. She doesn’t even fucking exist! What… As my brief fight flees me I turn sad eyes away from the brother that I had once cared for and had even felt a love. He no longer held such a place in my heart, a deep sense of despair, disbelief and loathing replaced it as his words sunk in, as his words wrapped around my mind taking hold of me. She’s not real. Stop pretending you idoit. The harsh words filled my mind, they were an echo from a previous time, a previous outburst, but the same person. Jamarion telling me she is not real, snarling and glaring, forcing me to believe that Kofa, my only friend was not real, but she was. She had to be. She was my only company and if she wasn’t real then I was more crazy then they said, she told me I wasn’t crazy and if she wasn’t real?

”No.” I whisper, tears spring to my eyes. As they begin to fall they burn, leaving firey trails down my skin a sob clings to the inside of my throat, but I hold onto it tightly. “No. No, no no. I said with more force, my voice growing louder. “She is real. She has to be. I hissed, getting up and off the couch. I turned and faced Jamarion. “If she isn’t real, I have no reason to live, to be here and talk to you. If she isn’t real then how do I know that you are real. She is all I have and you can say nothing and do nothing to change that. You… You piece of shit!” I screamed, the words tumbling from my mouth, but as they fell all I could feel was a doubt, his words had stung me, but as I replayed on old memories and thoughts I realised just how rocky my belief was becoming, just how much Jamarion might be telling the truth. “She has to be real…” I cried. Now the tears fell freely and as they fell down my cheeks their burning made me cry out in pain.

And I ran away from Jamarion, Hopper and the brother who fought for his life on the television and finally I ran from the imaginary friend that I had sent to fight with Klaus my faith shaking in the one thing that had kept me alive for so long. Now I wasn’t so sure anymore, was she really and truly alive? Or was it just me?