Everything I Ever Wanted

I want to run away and never come back. Is it cowardice? Yes. But is it my belief or the whispers of others that creep into my ear? Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll still be blamed if I disappear. Not because I’m loved or cherished, no, but they’re scared that this world, and strangers, will tell them exactly what they did wrong, and they’ll not be able to silence them.

I want to see that happening, but I’ll not be here if I go through with this fantasy, right?

My gaze drifts to my right wrist, where the mangled skin stands out from the rest of my smooth arm. I touch it with my feathery fingers, but the sensation in my nerves is lost, just like my ability to find happiness in the dark corners of my heart. I straighten my legs, broken and then surgically stitched legs, and hear the cracking of bones. Those stupid doctors say my multiple fractures have healed, but the pain is still there. It becomes unbearable sometimes. But nobody believes my word over the doctors, after all, it’s been four years since my accident.

I concentrate on the intricate patterns of the vault door of the library for distraction. The library, my safe space where I get to travel far away, where I share my sorrows with the characters that suffered way more than I did. And it has a secret. Or so I think. The vault door in the right corner always remains sealed shut. Nobody is allowed in the ten-foot area around it. I have no idea why, but it is a hidden treasure that I’m dying to discover.

Heaving a dismissive sigh, I roll my right shoulder, but this time the cracking of bone is like thunder that jerks me to a halt.

The door is open. Just a tiny bit. And there is…light shining behind it.

I frantically search my surroundings, waiting for the pretty librarian to run towards that door to shut it, but she is nowhere to be seen. Every other person has their eyes glued to the screen of their laptops, trying to memorize whatever readings their professors posted just this morning. I can see that blue light in my peripheral vision, getting brighter, calling me towards it.

But I wait for a scratchy sound of the librarian through the speakers to warn everyone away from the vault. It doesn’t come. And nobody looks up. And that light pulses two times, as if hypnotizing me to barge inside that door. After checking one last time for any…spying onlookers, I get up on my sore legs, leaving my walker behind, in that vault’s direction. Thank God I can walk a certain distance without this assistive device that becomes an annoyance in crowded places.

My pain is a second thought, and as I go near, I don’t really care who sees me. The curiosity and delusional side of my brain win when I push open the door with my left hand. The vines on the door leave a soothing burn behind, but I don’t have the time to acknowledge that because I’m blinded by the blue light.

Just when I’m convinced that I’m dead, my eyes fly open to the voice of the librarian, which is not scratchy anymore. She’s saying something, but I need a moment to process what just happened.

I opened that sealed vault door, and it didn’t lead anywhere. Did I dream of that? Have I finally lost my mind?

“The library is closed, Ema. You should go home.”

What? It was only three when I completed yet another novel and wandered into the vault.

“What do you mean by what? It’s eight. And why are you carrying that walker with you? Are you injured, honey?”

Did I say that out loud? And wait, I always carry my walker with me.

“What are you talking about? You know I’ve multiple fractures. It’s my assistive device, Nicole.”

She eyes me with suspicion and something akin to disappointment.

“Don’t play with that device, Ema. Maybe someone has gone to the bathroom and left it here. And I didn’t expect you to pull this prank, too. You’re better than those spoiled kids.”

“W-what? No, see my wrist. The scars will….”

A breath whooshes out of my lungs, leaving me with tingles all over my body. I take a step back and realize that… I have no scars. I push the sleeve of my t-shirt up and…holy shit, the marks on my right arm are gone.

I’m hyperventilating. I don’t understand what’s happening. I probe my skin, chasing the feel of that familiar bumpy skin and that numb feeling.

“I don’t think you’re well, honey. Come, let me drop you home. And leave that walker where it’s supposed to be,” she warns.

I scan the library, lit by the golden rays of the lights. And it’s all the same. Those floor-to-ceiling windows, those couches, those shelves filled with books—everything! I hear her calling me from the door, and I take a frantic step toward where my book and lunch box are sitting on the counter.

I freeze after one stride. There is…no pain. My legs are so light I could jump, but somehow, they’re so heavy that I'm rooted right here.

Managing my breathing just so people don’t think I’m having a panic attack, I fly out of the library to the car park.

The entire ride, I imagine myself barging into my room and removing my clothes to check for the other proofs that the accident left on my body. Nicole steals unsure glances at me, but I don’t care. I should pin her with a glare. Did she even know that the vault was something else? Magic? Illusion? Trick?

“Eat a good meal and get some sleep. No guy is going to approach you in college if you look like a confused mess.”

I’m stunned for the millionth time this day. I go to college?

I don’t even nod in response before walking to the front door of my house- my uncle’s house, on steady, painless legs. I ring the doorbell once, expecting my mean-faced aunt to open it with indifference written all over her features.

“Did you have that much homework today? You’re late.”

My foot slips, and I fall down the two steps on the driveway with a thud. And the worst part is that the stinging pain in my hands and the throbbing in my rear tell me this is not a dream.

It’s my mother’s sweet smile that greets me.

Her figure blurs under the weight of my tears. She rushes towards me and tries to haul me upright, but I’m frozen in time.

How is she here? Why is she here? She never came when I begged her to. She failed to convince my dad to come here to care for me. She listened to me when I cried, but never…never came here.

“Aiden, come here. Ema fell. She needs help to get up,” my mother calls my… father?

Tears spill down my face. My mother wipes them off, but there is no stopping them. They are here. After all this time, they’re here. With me.

“You’re so clumsy, I’m telling you.” My…brother comes running down the steps and clutches me by the waist, successfully placing me on my feet again.

My younger brother, Eli, has grown so much. He’s strong. He can even lift me, dammit.

“I’m not introducing you to my friends if you keep doing this, Di.”

I suck in an audible, horrified breath to bring the air back to my lungs. Those salty tears run down my cheeks, and I want to cry harder, but I can’t. Dad comes and smacks Eli on the head, takes my arm, and guides me into the house while scolding him for making me cry.

I drink water, but it doesn’t go anywhere. My brother tries to make me laugh, but it doesn’t work. My mother brings my favorite meal on a plate, with butter, just as I like it. My father jokes about my runny nose and puffy eyes. Nothing works!

I know this is real. And this is what I wanted. But it still hurts like hell.

“Where are Uncle and Aunt?” I ask when I manage to calm down for a few seconds.

I get confused and angry looks at my question, and I immediately think that the wedge between family is finally up, and I’m responsible for it.

“We stopped talking to them long ago. Don’t you remember? After they decided to move, we bought this house.”

For some reason, I’m not shocked anymore. I know exactly what is happening. Everything I ever wanted.

My tears break free once I hide inside the room, and I finally let out those sobs lodged in my throat as I remember everything this whole change entails.

I recall the nights I cried myself to sleep because my aunt chose to take her anger out on me by saying every possible thing that could hurt me.

Another tear brings the memory when I worked the whole day despite my aching joints and head, and was tossed aside with a simple thank you at the end of the day, with the expectation to get up tomorrow for the same routine.

Another sob, and I recall how they buried everything they did under the pretense of love.

Another hiccup, and I remember being shunned for sleeping more when I was on meds.

Another heartbeat, and I remember listening to all my faults and my burdensome existence from someone who heard it all from my aunt.

Another forceful drag of breath, and I hear those exact words, ‘I want to kick you out of the house’.

And I cry non-stop, cradling my now-smooth wrist under my cheek, testing my arm repeatedly for any feeling of pain. There’s none. When I strip down and find no trace of the stitches, I cry some more.

I jump while I cry.

I do sit-ups while I cry.

And then after a bath, I go down to eat my favorite food with a big smile and tear-laden eyes.

Today, the bed feels more comfortable, and I don’t need any meditation to go to sleep.

Days pass. I get up hearing my mother’s voice. I eat as though I had starved for centuries. I hug my brother so often that he eventually kicks me away. I lay on my father’s big belly while watching some cheap reality show. I go to college, I go to work, I dance and run, and we go to Wonderland. Life is perfect.

The prickling sensation of numbness jumps my heart into a frantic rhythm. I feel my left knee getting heavier while I dream. My right leg screams in pain, and my shoulders are tight with knots. And I’m slipping in the dark. Those black tendrils, shaped like claws, probe my skin, as if searching for familiarity. But I don’t have any. I’m a new person, a happy person, which is why darkness is so eager to claim me again. But I’ll not give in. I have built my life ha….

Have I built my happy life? Or did I steal it? Did I actually run away like I fantasized?

I wake up with a sharp gasp, drenched in sweat. I have not cried a single tear in months, after that day I crossed the vault, or portal, to this alternate life. But something doesn’t feel right at this moment. That foreign sensation of a robotic hand that was once present only in my right wrist and hand is now coursing through my entire body. It feels like I’m lost.

My mother’s smile, when she wakes me up, feels made up. My brother seems closed off at the dining table, and my father stares far ahead in space, looking for something he lost.

A week passes, and that foreign sensation doesn’t become my own like that injury. Maybe I'm ungrateful, but I remember that sinking feeling in my stomach when my parents refused to leave their home. Now, I reminisce about the nights when I begged my father to come to me, and how that conversation always ended with me being so hurt that I couldn’t cry anymore. And how sending medications from different doctors was the better option for them instead of being there for me.

I collect my guts with an inhale as I stand in front of the vault, whose door is somehow open again. And just like that day, there is no one looking at me. I study the vine patterns, and this time, white light shines brighter, purer than the last time.

“I know you fulfilled my dream. You eradicated everything that hurt me. You-You gave me a chance at this perfect, happy life. But this isn’t how it’s supposed to work. Happiness means nothing when you don’t know pain. Relationships and love mean nothing if they're forced. And me, I understand that I can’t run away from myself.”

I sigh and shut my eyes tightly, “I know it’ll hurt…”

I push the door open, setting my booted foot just inside the threshold that will change my life yet again. But this time, I’m prepared.

“I know it’ll hurt…but those scars are mine.”