The Dark of You - S01 E50

6 months ago

The Dark of You - S01 E50

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 50

I can't take it

You'd think time would heal all wounds, but some scares won't ever fade. They are there as a reminder and even though you hide them away in the closet like skeletons. You sometimes want to take them out to crave that feeling again, even though you know that it's terrible and not good for you. Still, I want it all.

I pulled the heavy box along with me into the living room and watched over it like a curse. A dangerous territory, but I can't help it. The feeling takes over and I can't but give in to it. Slowly I bent down and opened it. Pressing my lips together, I watched over every color, paintbrush, and drawing book I had as a child.

Before I found the box, I put up the easel, but it took me forever to place the canvas I had started on. The half-done painting of Rylan. I was never able to finish it before she left. I don't know if it was that I forgot about it or that I didn't have time. However, for the past week, it's been in the back of my mind. It's been hunting me, driving me to the need to complete it. Perhaps if I finish it, I'll let it all go. Or maybe I'm fooling myself and driving what's left of my sanity towards something I can't come back from. I don't know where I am going, no matter what direction I take. The path leads me to the same face over and over again. It's like being stuck in an endless loop where you have to walk through your pain every single second. I can't make it stop. I want it to stop. Please, someone, take this away from me cause I can't take it.

Taking a breath, I emptied the box. Balancing paintbrushes and colors on top of the coffee table. I honestly did not know where to start as I stared at the half-done face of Rylan. How am I supposed to recreate someone so perfect, so flawless, someone, so compelling? I traced the lines of her jaw on the canvas. Wishing with all my might that I could really touch her. To know that she is safe right here, with me. But, instead, I felt the ragged and the cold underneath my fingertips.

Closing my eyes, I see her all over again. She's always there, occupying my entire being. Paralyzing me with her ocean eyes, those soft lips taunting me as she smiles. Her form is solid and strong as she holds me in her arms. To keep me hidden and safe from everything that hurts. But now, she's the one that brings the agony. An ache that has brought a form of emptiness. A void that is so hungry that no matter what I feed it, it won't fill. But maybe, just maybe, painting her would ease it all. Fulfill something, anything to make the storm calm. However, the silence could never have ever been louder. It's so loud. But I can still hear the clock on the wall ticking—the traffic rush below my apartment. Yet, my head hurts from all the voices no one can hear. The constant screams of longing for her warmth. The continuous shouts, wondering what I did wrong. The infectious thoughts keep on spreading from my mind and to my heart.

"I can't take it," A tear slid down my cheek as I found myself frozen, staring at her. I shook my head and dried away the tear. Promising myself that I wouldn't cry anymore. I can do this. I've been here before, but this time I'll win. I can make this painting. It'll be perfect. I know it will.

I forced myself to pick out the right colors and find the correct brush to create something, someone I have never done before. I don't know how long it took, an hour or two before I found the strength in me to place the first color onto the canvas. Those blond streaks of hair, golden and as always placed up in a ponytail. Rylan would be annoyed if as much as one hair strand was lose. The perfection of her, constantly there. She always has to be strong and fearless. A knight in shining armor defending everything and everyone, even though they don't deserve it. Like I didn't deserve it.