She stood up, her hair pulled back into two braids,
A question lingering on her lips as she stared at me.
“Why don't you want to get better?” She asked, a face of intrusion
I looked at her, feeling for an answer that I knew existed somewhere
“I think,” I started to say, “That I want to, but I've grown so used to feeling wrong,
That I no longer understand how to feel right. There is a monster inside of my body,
he bears my name, he haunts my mind, and whispers to me. He has me wrapped around her finger, a delicious little nightmare.”
The girl stared at me with squinted eyes and a confused smile.
“I don't understand, you put yourself into your work, does he go to? Does your nightmare walk with you everyday?”
“He flows through my fingers into the ink on this page and every page; he leaves me behind sometimes, and when he does, I am less than nothing. Yes, you can see me then, but I am not me without her. My little nightmare's heart is my own. Learning to live without my pretty little nightmare is like being thrown into the ocean and not knowing how to swim.”
A look of dawning appeared in her eyes, spotted with curiosity,
In this place of white walls and white floors and white beds
This was the only color
“Wouldn't it help if you weren't left alone with her? You always lock yourself away in that awful room with no one to help you.”
I could reply with a sharp retort, a tactic of distance,
But she wasn't being mean and simply wanted to understand
Which is more than most have tried to do.
“I isolate myself because fighting her and speaking with you are exhausting to a guy like me.”
I gave her a weak smile, a shattered smile, but a smile with red lips and white teeth all the same.
“What kind of guy are you?”
My eyes faded and my mouth shut
A streak of memory burst through my heart, a twisted bolt poisoned
“A broken one.”
She gave me a toothy grin, a contagious grin
and skipped up to me with her little red shoes.
“Let me put you back together again. I promise I won't lose a piece.”
She grabbed my hands and pulled me out of my chair
Fear shocked my body as my sleeves were pulled away,
revealing the masterpiece I'd drawn on my skin with iron
But the little girl only took out a band aid and put it over a scar, saying
“I won't let you fall apart again. I'll help you learn to live again. I promise.”
She gave me her pinky finger and crossed it over mine. “Pinky promise.”
And then jumped up and down with excitement.
I looked over as a white gowned woman entered the room.
“Miss,” I called out. “Why is she here?” I pointed to the little girl
The nurse said with a sad truth, “She brought herself in, said her mother left her and she hurt and that this is where hurting people came, sweet child.”
I looked back at the child, grinning at me
And she stared back at me, a whisper caressing her mind
“Please don't leave me. Everyone leaves. Are you going to leave?”
I took her in my arms, and told her this—
“I won't go away. I'll stay with you and you'll stay with me. I promise.”
