He

Everything in here is prim and proper. Sitting in a pre-determined pattern. Snug perfectly like pieces of a puzzle, each in its assigned position. Playing its own tiny part to keep the picture pendant. Precisely how it ought to be. Pray it all falls down one day– landslides of information. Floods of boxed away thoughts. It would rain blood on white terrain. All foundations of sanity would quake. All signs of consciousness would cease. I can picture the self disintegrate, it’s not a pleasant sight.

“See, you’re going there again.” he’s speaking again, I let him. “We talked about this. It’s okay, don’t worry, repetition is key. 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3… Don’t forget to breathe.” His hand slides up and down my arm, a comfort gesture. He’s been around more often these past days and I don’t mind.

“It’s a fragile thing, living in a sandcastle. Smooth, poised, unperturbed. On the outside its a solid facade, on the inside a hollow. A simple tap of a fingertip away from shattering.” I nod. I am powerless in front of him. He knows. “Part of the reason why everything in here must remain prim and proper. Snug perfectly like pieces of a puzzle, each linking to its assigned position. Playing its own tiny part to keep the picture pendant.” He senses my fingers fickle again. My head begins to hurt harder, an artery must’ve burst. My consciousness seems to be flickering. On one minute, off the next. Eyes can’t focus. A hand on my head, he strokes my hair. He knows me too well.

“It’s okay, I’m right here. Are you breathing right? Repetition is key. We’re on the same team remember? 1, 2, 3, 1,2, 3…I told you I’ll never leave.”

His voice sounds like home, so i obey. He watches me breathe, and I count as i do. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…repetition is key. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, my croaky voice booms in the empty tiled bathroom, my only companion a lizard on the ceiling, and He.

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