Let It Speak

Nowhere - Part 2

There are moments in life where you have no rational explanation or reason for what you're doing. You just do it.

This was one of those moments.

The ground under my feet was soft, slightly giving way with every step. It was dark and misty, but my feet knew exactly where they were going.

Memories flashed in my mind. Chloe succeeded in creating a crack in my wall.
My family's tear filled eyes. I was leaving it behind, turning away and going in the opposite direction.

With every step further away from our bungalows, my doubt grew. And just when I wanted to turn around, I'd hear the sound of my name being called.

Timothy.

It still had that sing-song feel to it. Under normal circumstances it would've creeped me out. But instead it brought an odd sense of comfort. That promise of relief.

I had little to lose. I was lost in my own world where nothing mattered anymore. Everything was lost to me, including myself. From the moment I first heard that voice calling my name, something closely resembling hope sprouted up in my being. I had no idea where I was going or what would happen when I got there. I just knew it would be better. It would be okay again.

During the first 20 minutes, there were still thoughts of turning back and moments where I questioned my sanity. After about an hour of walking a desperation sat in my chest, putting all my actions in gear.

My feet started to move faster. I was unaware of all the sounds in the forest that unsettled me earlier. The only thing that I was aware of was my heart that was being pulled by an invisible thread. And the sound of my name, being sung and carried by the slithering mist.

Timothy.

In my mind I was running away from that hospital room. Away from their sad faces.

My dad's closed lids.

The beeping machines.

Running until the images faded into black.

Timothy.

I was getting close. I could feel it. My feet moved faster still, by now I was full-out sprinting. It was only a little further--

From out of nowhere the earth before me disappeared. I skidded to a stop and almost fell into the abyss. My arms stretched out on both sides, I fought to keep my balance. I threw all my weight backward and fell. I scrambled further away from the edge, my breathing ragged. It took a minute or so to get my breathing and heart rate under control again.

I stood up-- then it dawned on me. The gravitational pull inside my chest was gone and the sound of my name wasn't contaminating the air anymore. Without the pull inside my chest, my actions seemed insane. What was I doing here?

All the things I thought I was running away from crashed down on me. It felt closer and more real than ever.

My family's tear filled eyes. That awful hospital room. The constant beeping. I fell to my knees.

I saw it. My dad was holding my hand in his. He was smiling. I was crying--

No. Stop.

I was trying in vain to shove the images from my mind.

"I'm so proud of you, son."

Go away. Stop!

"Look out for Peter, and take care of your mother."

No. I can't. Please.

The sound of my dad's voice rang in my head. The hospital room was too hot that day. Suffocating. That same smothering heat was choking me.