Fractured Past

They always said if we were too curious, They would come for us. Yet, humankind is naturally curious. How far does a human need to delve before they cross that invisible threshold only the Others can see? They never specified what They wanted either, or why They stole humans away in the night like common thieves, never to be heard from or seen again.

I never thought I would see it happen or have it happen to me. I never thought I would become like Them. Something irreplaceable broke in me that night and the many long and torturous nights that followed.

That incident six months ago haunts my every hour, my every breath. To let my mind wander to those memories, even for only a brief moment, leaves an even larger gaping and festering wound in its place. So, I shut myself down so quickly, I feel as if I locked some part of my soul out in my haste to bury the pain deep. I feel as if I lose a part of me every time I open those blistering doors to the past. The thought of slowly losing who I am, or who I was, used to shred me apart. Now… well, now I couldn’t care less about what I have become and what I will continue to become. I’m no longer at odds with myself. Maybe that should frighten me more than the ghost that stalks me, but it doesn’t. I no longer have the capacity to feel fear over such a useless and hopeless matter. That is not to say, however, that I don’t fear other things.

I’m running. From what, I don’t exactly know. Perhaps I’m running from my broken past, perhaps I’m running from what I have become, perhaps I’m running from the terrifying unknowns of the future, or perhaps from that presence I feel surrounding me, choking me everywhere I turn. In my eyes, these are all decent reasons to run, yet that doesn’t make me feel any less cowardly. But running is what I do best, because, well, it’s the only thing I know now.