Chapter 34

This memory makes my stomach squirm and I take a deep breath so as not to vomit. My head is like a big whirlpool where thoughts and memories swirl and mix in a confusing way. I adapted to a defense mechanism where so that the force of my storm could not drag me, I created visions and dreams in which other people were hurt. It was hard for me to believe that none of these people have ever been to that place. They never cried and asked for the help of their dead mother. They never confessed need for other people to be forced to raise their hands and promise that they would not leave them. They never hated the feeling of emptiness. It's always been me, Abigail.

I blame myself for the people I dragged to hell to help me when there was nothing else to do. I certainly hated emptiness. I hated the feeling of loss. But now I hate even more knowing that the hole in my head is filled with a putrid liquid, an essence sucked from the trauma forgotten by its brutality and disgust.