Lilith Aurelia
My heart was pounding, and a wave of anguish washed over me. The world around me blurred into obscurity as my mind spiraled into chaos. I couldn't breathe, each gasp for air a painful reminder of my own vulnerability. It felt like I was descending into a nightmarish abyss.
My body had gone numb as if I were separated from it, a mere observer to the torment that wracked my physical form. Every nerve seemed to scream, every muscle tensed in response to an invisible assailant.
I leaned against the door of my sanctuary, the one place where I sought refuge from the harsh realities of life. My back pressed against it, and I slowly slid down, clutching my shirt where my heart resided. The rhythmic thudding reverberated through my fingertips, each beat echoing the tumult within my chest.
My gasps for air were desperate, like a drowning soul fighting to surface. Each breath was a battle, as if I were battling for survival against an unknown adversary. It was an excruciating struggle to regain control, to reclaim the life force that had eluded me.
As I gasped for breath, hallucinations washed over me, distorting my sense of reality. Images of Amaya and the events that had haunted me resurfaced, replaying like a nightmarish reel of memories I couldn't escape.
But it wasn't just the fear of my own demons that tormented me. There was something more profound at stake. In the depth of my despair, I was scared that I might hurt my mom inadvertently. The mere thought of causing her any harm was an unbearable weight on my heart. The bond we shared was too precious, too fragile, and the idea of damaging it was a haunting nightmare.
Fear gripped me. Not the fear of my own suffering, but the fear of what I might do to my mother. She was the most important person in my life, my confidante, my best friend. If something were to happen to her because of me, I couldn't bear the thought. I was scared, not just of my own inner torment, but of the potential harm I might cause to the one person I loved more than anything else. If something happened to her, I felt like I would have no choice but to end my own life.
"What's happening to me?" The question echoed in the depths of my mind, unanswered and haunting. I was adrift in a sea of uncertainty, grappling with forces I couldn't comprehend.
The darkness closed in, and for that brief moment, I felt as if I were teetering on the precipice of oblivion, the edge of my own sanity. In that moment, I clung to the door, trembling with fear and despair, desperately wishing for some kind of reprieve from the torment that had taken hold of me.
***
The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. As I slowly stirred from my slumber, I found my mom still there, holding my hand and sleeping in a chair beside my bed, her head resting on the edge of the mattress. I couldn't help but feel a wave of guilt wash over me.
My head throbbed with a relentless ache, and my entire body felt heavy, as if I were trapped in my own skin. I struggled to recall the events of the previous night, a blur of pain and confusion.
"Mom," I tried to call out, but the sound that emerged from my lips was not my own. It was a deep, resonant voice, one that didn't belong to me. Panic surged within me as I realized that the hand I had reached out to touch her was not mine. It was a hand that was strong, masculine, and unfamiliar.
I quickly withdrew my hand, my heart racing. A sense of disorientation overcame me as I looked down at myself. My body was not that of a girl; it was that of a young man. I had always been taller than many girls and some boys my age, but this transformation was beyond comprehension.
I stumbled out of bed, my footsteps heavy and unfamiliar. With each movement, I discovered more about my new body, from the bare chest to the broad shoulders. The reflection in the mirror revealed a man, not the girl I had always been. The young man who stared back at me was strikingly handsome, more so than anyone I had ever seen. But the shock of the transformation far outweighed any admiration for my newfound appearance.
I couldn't contain my shock. "What's going on?" I whispered to myself, the words escaping my lips in the deep voice of the man I had become. Fear and bewilderment welled up inside me, threatening to consume my every thought, as I struggled to make sense of the inexplicable change that had taken place.
Then, as I struggled to maintain my balance, I lost control and tumbled toward the mirror table. The crash of breaking glass echoed in the room as a vase shattered. The sound was deafening, but what unnerved me more was my mother's reaction.
She awoke, her expression one of serene understanding, as though she had been expecting this. Her response was not one of surprise but of calm acceptance.
I was left to wonder what kind of strange and inexplicable transformation had taken place and how my mother seemed to know more about it than I did.
***
I jolted awake, the remnants of a vivid dream still lingering in my consciousness. Fairytales, illusions crafted by the mind, had a peculiar way of seeping into reality, even if only for a fleeting moment. Yet, there she was, in the waking world, her head resting on the mattress. Guilt washed over me like a tide; I had made her worry again.
In the gentle awakening that followed, I treaded softly into the realm of consciousness. Descending downstairs, I entered a room that belonged to me but held the essence of shared memories. It was Amaya's room – a sacred space where we had once played and laughed together. The room now carried the weight of her absence, a poignant reminder of a friend lost to the hands of time. Nostalgia enveloped me, wrapping me in the bittersweet embrace of moments that could never be relived.
"Lili, when we are older, we are going to travel the world," the echoes of her voice reverberated in the room. The girl who had been my constant source of laughter, my sunshine in the darkest days, was no more. "I thought you would never leave me. I was happy when you said we are forever friends. You even told me I can always come to you when I have something going on," I whispered, a tear escaping my eye and tracing a path down my cheek.
"Don't cry, Lili," she whispered back, a figment of my imagination, her touch a gentle caress against my face. I left the room, resisting the urge to let my inner darkness spiral out of control.
In another room, I prepared myself to face the outside world, penning a simple note on paper. "I am going out," it said, a fragile shield against causing more sadness. I couldn't bear to burden her further.