The Gods told me that already

My back hurts. I’ve been curled up in the corner for so long. My hands holding my head, further pushing me down into my knees. I can’t believe they would do that to me. I’ve been repeating it to myself for hours, hoping that the more I said it, the more I could accept it, but I can’t. It hurts my whole being the more I say it. It hurts my heart, my feelings, my throat, my head, my teeth. The rocking is starting to hurt my spine, the small tap from the wall started off as nothing but after this many hours, it’s like a stabbing in my back. I keep rocking. I need to get used to this sensation. This forced impalement into my back, giving me only milliseconds to realize, react, and respond. It was going to happen to me anyway, by the hand of my dearest friend of all people. The one who stood by me when my world came crashing down, the one who held me and I fell apart, the one who understood me. Does it still count as backstabbing if I’m staring right at them? If they stab my chest instead of my back? Does it still count as a betrayal on my end. If they keep their eyes close and just bring the knife down with the force and hatred needed to stab, I suppose it’s still a backstabbing. But my eyes are wide open, and I see you. 

I’ve had this feeling for weeks. It kept me up at night, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out where all of these loose ends could be neatly tied up. I couldn’t figure it out on my own. So I went looking for help. I went to the local tarot reader. She sealed the belief for me. She told me I was going to have a huge change in my life, orchestrated by those I hold near and dear. I asked her who. She said she didn’t know. I asked her again. She said she could help me if I paid for a protection spell. But how am I supposed to protect myself from someone if I don’t know who. I left.

I decided to meet with the local palm reader. He told me many things, how long I had, how I will meet my love, how many children I will come to have and inherit my fortune. I don’t care. I ask him if there are any betrayals coming to my life. He looks at me, tilting his head. My tapping foot and my slightly sweating palms coming into his view. He frowns. He finally tells me. He admits he had been keeping it from me, to not worry, but since I was already aware, he reveals to me who it is. My best friend. My childhood friend. The closest person I had in my life would stab me in the back relentlessly and without mercy. I’m shaking. I ask him how. He says he does not know. I ask him again. He tells me there is nothing else he can do. I pay and leave, practically running out. 

There is one last person I can ask. I visit this woman in her small apartment who claims she can speak to higher beings. She works with Gods and the God, speaking and asking, speaking and asking. I tell her about my recent findings. She nods, she already knew. God had told her so. I ask her what will my best friend do to betray me. She looked at me and went silent. I stare at her, my tapping foot having no mercy on her wooden floors. She tells me it will be something big, something only I would know the true offense of. I beg her. Tell me what it is. She tells me she can’t, it’s against what she does. She tells me that if I knew, I would get in the way of fate’s plan and only prolong what was coming. I leave. 

I’ve been stuck in my house for days. Rocking, mumbling, head holding, crying. I can’t take it anymore. Why would my friend betray me? How could someone I see as family do that to me? I do not what to do. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. Nobody knows. I’ve been in this corner all day. My back hurts. I can’t keep thinking about all that will happen and all that has yet to happen and all that could happen. I can’t. I need to end this. I need to. 

My phone has been going off for the past few days. I’ve missed work because we see each other. I’ve missed usually outings because we usually go together. I’ve missed everything. I can’t keep living like this. I pick up my phone and scroll through the notification. My mother’s and father’s messages moving past as I scroll, looking for the specific number. There. I’ve received a total of 170 messages and 52 calls in this week alone. How disgusting. Acting like there was a single care in those messages. I called my oh so dear friend. We spoke. Relief washing over the voice I heard on the other side of my phone. I couldn’t help but mentally gag, why bother with this facade? 

I invite my dearest friend over and leave the door open just enough so that they can just walk in without having to knock. Considering the worry I heard in their voice, a good friend like that would just burst through the door to check up on little ol’ me. I sit in the corner with a new trusted friend. I wait. This time is nothing compared to the grueling hours I spent trying to figure this whole mystery out. 

The door opens. The room is dark. My friend turns their back on me to turn on the lights. I smile. How perfect, I couldn’t help but think to myself as I stood up and ran towards my friend. This backstabbing was practically handed to me.