Vimal

Allison ->Kali ->Shiva -> Kyole -> Vimal



Warning- The feels are real in this one and it's probably super edgy. This is a sad story for a beautiful derg.

Have you ever felt trapped, like there was no one to turn to and nowhere to go? Have you ever felt lost and like an outcast among even those who have accepted and loved you for months and months of your life, as though they would never understand what you had to say? Have you ever felt alone in a world of chaos from which there was no feasible escape, no one to turn to and nowhere to go? Where nobody would believe you even if you tried to tell them what you were going through? Have you ever felt trapped in perpetual torment and uncertainty which was so agonizing that you wanted... no.. needed somebody to turn to, where you only needed some help? But despite this you couldn't tell anyone because if you did they would only take you away and separate you from everything and everyone that you loved? Have you ever suffered so much that you just... stopped functioning at all? Stopped responding to things, stopped taking care of yourself and just wanted it all to... to end? Not for the sake of escaping but to just... just taste what freedom was like... to just have a moment of peace.... to actually feel alive.

Well I have, I've felt all of this and more. The sting of betrayal, the agony of dread, the searing tear of hopelessness accompanied by it's cold and unfriendly grasp across my heart and my mind. I've felt the pain of my mother and her misguided words as she pinned the blame of her suffering on me, I've felt the collision of my step father's fists as he beat me down in a fury of rage and I've survived it all. Is my survival even a gift at this point? Sometimes I wonder if it was better back then, if it had a purpose in turning me into who I am today. The past helped me to grow stronger, taught me the importance of loyalty and the value of friendship. My struggles have taught me to appreciate the good in this world and the tiniest things in life, such as the cool and crisp morning breeze in a forest's wind or the pleasure of a simple meal of bread and butter at the table with my family. Not the best meal, I know, but it was home and it was... it was something good and pure and real.

Now a days I can't really tell who I am anymore or what my purpose is, all of that was lost a long long time ago. All of that time running and running farther and farther away, setting down roots for a brief moment with those lingering words my mother would speak with the brightest of smiles on her face. "This is it, this is our new home and we're never moving again."... I've always known those words to be a lie and who am I kidding? There was never a certainty in her eyes when she told those words to us, only pain and fear. If she was ever certain then why did we avoid calling these locations home? Why were they always just The Base and why did she always tell me to "Hold Down The Fort" when she had to go away? No, she was never certain at all, but maybe she was just trying to give us some comfort amidst all the pain and the fear.

We couldn't tell anyone, there was nobody to tell and nobody to trust. Even if we did reach out how could they believe us, and if they did where would things go from there? They would only be in danger if they intervened and that was if they took our side... They would never take our side, anytime we thought they did things would always turn around and we'd be on the run again. If they weren't trying to capture my mother then they were trying to take me away, to "save me", claiming that it was all for my own good. Boy, did I prove them wrong, did I scare the ever living daylights out of them when they tried pulling this crud. Never got to see them again, they just took off when I hurled that table their way in a fury they could never truly understand. It wasn't my mother's fault, she wasn't a bad parent, we were just going through something that they would never come to know about. Something they could never... comprehend.... but my mother and my sister meant the world to me and I knew I couldn't live without them.

After that we never trusted anybody, not easily that is, we just kept to ourselves and learned to blend in. We avoided talking about anything too personal, we steered away from social interactions and I spent so long changing myself from this to that, from outgoing to emo, from friendly to vicious, doing whatever it took to avoid being found that I even lost myself. There's only two things I know for sure about myself now after all of that lying and all of that hiding. I'm loyal, and I'm distant. Maybe that's all I need to know, my life was never really about myself anyway. My life was always about them, about my family, about fighting to protect them and to keep them safe and happy and cared for in whatever way I could. Something tells me I could have done better but... what could I have done at that age? Even then the suffering never stopped, even after that the...

That's when the deaths came, the rare friends and family that we were real with and that we cared for. The extreme few that managed to squirm their way into our hearts and make us feel loved and cared for and safe. All of them were outcasts of society, all of them were rejected or hurt in some horrible way by others but this abuse formed a catalyst which created strong and capable people who were loyal and true to those they cared for and trusted. We never trusted easy, our allegiances were always hard won and normally took years to build but once a connection was made that was it. We were loyal, and we were... we were a family.... up to the bitter end. The worst part is that they didn't all die at once. Horrible thing to say right? Of course it is, you couldn't comprehend it.

Imagine this then, maybe it could give you a glimpse of what it was like. Think about believing that you could save them, that you could save all of them as you watched them drop like flies. Watching, waiting, thinking maybe this time, maybe this time we could just save one. Then after they died you would blame yourself for it, you weren't fast enough, you weren't strong enough, they were counting on you and you had failed them. If you had only been better, only been stronger, only been faster or maybe smarter then maybe they could have lived! If you had noticed this little sign here or that one out of place person at the corner, minding their own business before striking a cruel hand of fate which harmed not one, but everyone connected to the life that had just died... and all for what? Because you wouldn't stop running when they wanted you to, because you wanted to fight and would do anything in your power to protect those you loved. Perfect opportunity for them, perfect way to take advantage of your weakness and a perfect way to use someone who wanted to help you. They didn't all die from combat though, they didn't all die defending us... Aunt Denene, Aunt Dana, died from brain cancer before I could ever say goodbye. Before I could ever show her how much I had grown as a person and how well I had learned to behave. Papa Smurf, arrested for identity fraud, the poor old man just wanted to live and this was the only way. Papa Smurf wasn't a bad guy, he was funny and kind and friendly and always knew how to make the most out of a bad situation. I'm hoping he got to truly live one more time before dying, I know it's pointless to wish this but I hope he didn't rot to death in a prison cell. I'm hoping he didn't have any regrets. Those who died, died over the years, one or two or ten at a time. One after another after another and I was never good enough to save them.... Seems like I still have some emotions after all, can't stop shedding the tears or feeling this ache in my heart at these thoughts. It's probably best to move on anyway... that's what they would want right?

Anyway, the running and the fighting have stopped now, I've been told yet again that it's finally safe and that they've stopped hunting us. After I finally cooperated and provided those blood samples and went through with their research and let them experiment on me. After I finally stopped and answered their questions and threatened their lives and injured their staff. After I finally just stopped fighting at all and they put me in a program for rehabilitation into a normal human society. After all of this they just vanished and they vanished for roughly six or seven years. Is it really all over? Last time they left us alone it was for four years so maybe they just want us to get comfortable before striking again. Then again my mother claims to have confronted them and says that they decided to finally leave us alone. Were all those deaths really my fault or were they the result of something more? At least the death threats are over and my mother and sister are finally happy and comfortable and safe. That's all that matters in the end, that the last two people I've ever cared about are happy and safe. Still, I don't feel at home here, home is where the heart is and my heart... it isn't anywhere anymore, it's just a hurting and empty void which fakes it's emotions to get by. My mind, it's something that has to be preoccupied at all times or I just return to nothing. Something to keep busy with, a puzzle to solve, a series of training regimes to improve and to get better in case those horrible people ever return for us or just... something, anything, just a way to keep on living.

My mother told me recently to settle down and told me these words when I asked her what to do now "Live your life." but I'm... I'm afraid I don't really know how to do that. Life has always been about running and fighting, my purpose has always been to protect those I care about above all else and now.... now you're telling me none of that is necessary anymore? Nobody ever taught me how to live.... What is-... How to live? I'm afraid I really don't know, I don't understand, I-I still can't trust anybody enough to ask. I'm... I'm scared that all I can do is to keep going and to try and discover this for myself. Being alone has never stopped me before, fighting my own inner battles has always been the norm. Maybe one day I will truly understand how to live and hopefully I will find my new purpose soon. Because without a purpose in my life, a life I've never lived for myself, how will I keep going?

Freedom isn't what I dreamed it would be as a kid, it's a cold and empty feeling which returns you to that void inside. That feeling of emptiness and meaninglessness where nothing matters anymore. Freedom isn't bad, it's good, I think I can be happy if I can learn to feel something other than pain and sorrow again. Are these emotions even real or am I faking, for my own sake, to keep on going? Freedom isn't freedom, it's a feeling of being alone and lost in a cruel world which leaves you quaking in fear and despite this... there's no way back... and no guidance going forward. All I can do is keep moving until I find a new reason for living and discover what it means to truly live my life. One day I will learn how to live my life, I'm going to have to, freedom doesn't give me that choice... Besides, it was the last command I received from my mother before she had set me free. Freedom... the last true cruelty of my meager yet stubborn existence... lucky me.