Litany Against Fear
Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2019 8:32 am
((Mirabella Strong continued from All Battles Are Fought By Scared Men Who'd Rather Be Some Place Else))
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing......Only I will remain.
Bella stared blankly at the words on the page before her, scrawled in a messy font far removed from the delicate cursive she'd maintained back home. A long time ago she might've bitten her lip and chided herself for such sloppy handwriting, especially given how important these words had been to her, but now she didn't care at all about such insignificant minutiae. It didn't matter anymore. Very little mattered now, in fact.
She and Ami had quickly ran from the area in a hurried rush, their point of destination completely unknown to the pair of them. Though Bella had resisted her friend's hurried urges, any attempts at fighting back had quickly fled her system, replaced merely by thoughtless following in Ami's footsteps. They'd eventually reached the outskirts of the shopping mall, arriving there winded and desperate for shelter and rest. At the same time, however, Bella didn't want to stop. She didn't want to stop running away, because running away meant that she didn't have to acknowledge what had happened, didn't have to accept that her very world had been yanked away from under her.
But she stopped anyway, having found herself unable to protest against moving into the store. All in all, there were worse places to go to, the mall providing some practical use to them both. Neither of them had left for the trip well prepared for a situation like this, and days of roughing it out there had left their clothing a thread away from falling apart completely. They'd found the store easily enough, a small clothing boutique, the name of which Bella didn't care about, filled with a myriad of labels that she didn't care about either. Things like brand names or whether it was colour coordinated or suited her figure had lost all significance now, replaced by the basic need for something that'd aid her in one thing; survival.
Bella gathered the clothes quickly enough; some old jeans, a baggy t-shirt, a puffer jacket, and a pair of hiking boots. Nothing special, but it did the job. She shortly returned to Ami, her new outfit bundled together in a loose pile in her arms, and titled her head to the side as she spoke of her own accord for the first time in what seemed like forever. "Would you mind leaving for just a few minutes?" She asked, her voice halfway between a monotone and betraying some semblance of emotion. "I've got to get changed, is all. I'll be fine. It'll just be a few minutes."
Once Ami had left, Bella sat up calmly and removed her pack from her shoulders, withdrawing the beret she'd stowed within it what seemed like forever ago. She stared at it blankly, the happy memories she'd once associated with it having long since lost their significance. It was no longer a relic of a brighter past, of times of joy, now merely an object that had found its way into her belongings. In spite of its seeming pointlessness, though, merely glimpsing at the well-worn hat sent revulsion coursing through her system, its very touch making her want to retch. She didn't know why, and she didn't care. All she knew was that she needed to ensure that it went away, ensure that this singular object that'd conjured up such feelings within her never did so again.
She walked silently and deliberately towards one of the the racks of clothing that divided the store, nary an emotion etched onto her features as she turned the fabric of the cap over and over in her hands. At first, she wasn't sure why she'd asked Ami to leave, but when she properly examined the hat within her shaking hands she knew the exact reason.
Tucked within the corner of the beret was a rolled up photograph, stowed there some point in the past. She'd almost forgotten about it, the memory of its existence only returning to her once her nail had traced along its side. It was fairly mundane, in truth, a mere snapshot of her with her alongside her father at a party of some kind. He looked so happy and smiley, unawares of what'd happen to his family only a few months on. Her attention lingered on his glossy features for a few seconds, before snapping back to the other occupant in the picture. Looking back at her was Mirabella Strong, honours student and valedictorian nominee with a ride to Brown University, the same Mirabella Strong that panicked over a simple spelling mistake and fretted over what skirt to wear to school,
the same Mirabella Strong that had someone in her life who'd protect her and keep her safe.
Her Garrett was gone, as were her parents who'd always promised to be there for her. They were the only important ones in her life, the only one that mattered, the only reason she lived, the only things she needed or wanted in this world, two of whom she'd never see again, and the other having been snuffed out by a girl whom was allied with someone she'd once labeled a friend. All of this ran its way through Bella's mind, emotions violently churning within her like a tornado as the truth she'd jettisoned from her mind returned in full force.
She raced back to her daypack, hurriedly pulled the notebook from beside it, and wrenched it open. Pages upon pages of the same words, written over and over again with each subsequent letter losing coherency and form were torn from their bindings; a simple photograph that'd been a mere moment to her but was now a sickening reminder of the truth; a beret that she'd been so pleased to recieve all those years ago - it was all roughly torn into hundreds of pieces as Bella let out every emotion that she needed to, removed every trace of evidence that reminded her of her Garrett or her family or anybody else.
But that wasn't enough. Even with the pile of paper and cloth at her feet, she wasn't finished, wasn't done releasing her anger and fear and every other singular feeling that rampaged its way through the ruin of her mind. The racks crashed the ground with a boom that resounded around the area, cracking the linoleum and sending dust and clothing around the room. They were followed by the remainder of her own personal belongings, a multitude of insignificant reminders of a life she'd never be able to fully regain scattered across the mess of the store.
Bella stopped eventually, the damage she'd done coming to the forefront of her mind. At first she regretted what she'd done, regretted taking out everything and letting herself become such a mess, but after a few seconds she dismissed it. She didn't care about that anymore, and why should she? She needed to do it, needed to do something to vent every emotion she'd abstained from releasing. If she hadn't, then she would've gone crazy.
She wasn't crazy, was she?
She limply dropped to her knees, letting herself lie down upon the chaos she'd strewn about the place in her rage. She considered returning to her feet, replacing the mask she'd maintained for so long, but she didn't. Couldn't, rather. There was no way for her to return to some plastic smile, pretend that everything would be okay. Because it wouldn't. There was no chance for anything like that, not anymore. So she stayed there, amongst the tattered fabric and twisted metal and shards of glass, not caring who saw or what they thought, even when Ami returned.
Because Ami would understand.
She knew she would.
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing......Only I will remain.
Bella stared blankly at the words on the page before her, scrawled in a messy font far removed from the delicate cursive she'd maintained back home. A long time ago she might've bitten her lip and chided herself for such sloppy handwriting, especially given how important these words had been to her, but now she didn't care at all about such insignificant minutiae. It didn't matter anymore. Very little mattered now, in fact.
She and Ami had quickly ran from the area in a hurried rush, their point of destination completely unknown to the pair of them. Though Bella had resisted her friend's hurried urges, any attempts at fighting back had quickly fled her system, replaced merely by thoughtless following in Ami's footsteps. They'd eventually reached the outskirts of the shopping mall, arriving there winded and desperate for shelter and rest. At the same time, however, Bella didn't want to stop. She didn't want to stop running away, because running away meant that she didn't have to acknowledge what had happened, didn't have to accept that her very world had been yanked away from under her.
But she stopped anyway, having found herself unable to protest against moving into the store. All in all, there were worse places to go to, the mall providing some practical use to them both. Neither of them had left for the trip well prepared for a situation like this, and days of roughing it out there had left their clothing a thread away from falling apart completely. They'd found the store easily enough, a small clothing boutique, the name of which Bella didn't care about, filled with a myriad of labels that she didn't care about either. Things like brand names or whether it was colour coordinated or suited her figure had lost all significance now, replaced by the basic need for something that'd aid her in one thing; survival.
Bella gathered the clothes quickly enough; some old jeans, a baggy t-shirt, a puffer jacket, and a pair of hiking boots. Nothing special, but it did the job. She shortly returned to Ami, her new outfit bundled together in a loose pile in her arms, and titled her head to the side as she spoke of her own accord for the first time in what seemed like forever. "Would you mind leaving for just a few minutes?" She asked, her voice halfway between a monotone and betraying some semblance of emotion. "I've got to get changed, is all. I'll be fine. It'll just be a few minutes."
Once Ami had left, Bella sat up calmly and removed her pack from her shoulders, withdrawing the beret she'd stowed within it what seemed like forever ago. She stared at it blankly, the happy memories she'd once associated with it having long since lost their significance. It was no longer a relic of a brighter past, of times of joy, now merely an object that had found its way into her belongings. In spite of its seeming pointlessness, though, merely glimpsing at the well-worn hat sent revulsion coursing through her system, its very touch making her want to retch. She didn't know why, and she didn't care. All she knew was that she needed to ensure that it went away, ensure that this singular object that'd conjured up such feelings within her never did so again.
She walked silently and deliberately towards one of the the racks of clothing that divided the store, nary an emotion etched onto her features as she turned the fabric of the cap over and over in her hands. At first, she wasn't sure why she'd asked Ami to leave, but when she properly examined the hat within her shaking hands she knew the exact reason.
Tucked within the corner of the beret was a rolled up photograph, stowed there some point in the past. She'd almost forgotten about it, the memory of its existence only returning to her once her nail had traced along its side. It was fairly mundane, in truth, a mere snapshot of her with her alongside her father at a party of some kind. He looked so happy and smiley, unawares of what'd happen to his family only a few months on. Her attention lingered on his glossy features for a few seconds, before snapping back to the other occupant in the picture. Looking back at her was Mirabella Strong, honours student and valedictorian nominee with a ride to Brown University, the same Mirabella Strong that panicked over a simple spelling mistake and fretted over what skirt to wear to school,
the same Mirabella Strong that had someone in her life who'd protect her and keep her safe.
Her Garrett was gone, as were her parents who'd always promised to be there for her. They were the only important ones in her life, the only one that mattered, the only reason she lived, the only things she needed or wanted in this world, two of whom she'd never see again, and the other having been snuffed out by a girl whom was allied with someone she'd once labeled a friend. All of this ran its way through Bella's mind, emotions violently churning within her like a tornado as the truth she'd jettisoned from her mind returned in full force.
She raced back to her daypack, hurriedly pulled the notebook from beside it, and wrenched it open. Pages upon pages of the same words, written over and over again with each subsequent letter losing coherency and form were torn from their bindings; a simple photograph that'd been a mere moment to her but was now a sickening reminder of the truth; a beret that she'd been so pleased to recieve all those years ago - it was all roughly torn into hundreds of pieces as Bella let out every emotion that she needed to, removed every trace of evidence that reminded her of her Garrett or her family or anybody else.
But that wasn't enough. Even with the pile of paper and cloth at her feet, she wasn't finished, wasn't done releasing her anger and fear and every other singular feeling that rampaged its way through the ruin of her mind. The racks crashed the ground with a boom that resounded around the area, cracking the linoleum and sending dust and clothing around the room. They were followed by the remainder of her own personal belongings, a multitude of insignificant reminders of a life she'd never be able to fully regain scattered across the mess of the store.
Bella stopped eventually, the damage she'd done coming to the forefront of her mind. At first she regretted what she'd done, regretted taking out everything and letting herself become such a mess, but after a few seconds she dismissed it. She didn't care about that anymore, and why should she? She needed to do it, needed to do something to vent every emotion she'd abstained from releasing. If she hadn't, then she would've gone crazy.
She wasn't crazy, was she?
She limply dropped to her knees, letting herself lie down upon the chaos she'd strewn about the place in her rage. She considered returning to her feet, replacing the mask she'd maintained for so long, but she didn't. Couldn't, rather. There was no way for her to return to some plastic smile, pretend that everything would be okay. Because it wouldn't. There was no chance for anything like that, not anymore. So she stayed there, amongst the tattered fabric and twisted metal and shards of glass, not caring who saw or what they thought, even when Ami returned.
Because Ami would understand.
She knew she would.