Rose Blumen ~ Exogignesthai 259. After a bad dream, 7

(Rose)

We’re pushing slowly further into France, eating our more or less dry at as we go.

Bleue’s bag of petals is gone. They finally rot and lost their softness. My belly tends to serve as her pillow since, despite my low inclination for the matter. I haven’t withered yet I guess.

We’ve returned to the fields and scorched roads. I see there roads like I saw elsewhere, in a succession of tilted tiles thrown in disarray. As if this road had been violently ploughed, from below it seems, and like so over kilotres.

This makes a dented line of rocky teeth protruding from the ground.

We find a couple of wild cows along the endless fields. A few of them survived the end of dostication.

We went to have a closer look at them. We don’t bother them and neither do they.

We let them be while they seem to have little concern for us or anything else.

We cross an imnse field to reach a large farm.

Bones are scattered everywhere, but they’re old and there is no sll of death. It’s where the two remaining cows must live or co from. We found their old barn.

We go to the houses a little further south, and find a place to stay for the night.

Bleue found a bottle of wine in the cellar.

As usual, I can’t help but shiver at the thought of what it might bring.

Bleue tries it but then spits it, saying it turned bad. I can’t help but sigh my relief. We laugh.

We can feel the air being warr at night. Sumr is upon us.

~

My dream this night is strange. I can see my own heart beating inside my chest.

I see the muscles squeezing themselves, through orange and dark pink lights.

I see blood cells being pumped along. I feel warm. Too warm.

I’m unable to breathe enough. As if cats were sleeping all over , my neck, my face, my chest and my tummy.

They all purr softly.

I’m scared.

You know how in a dream you forgot all of your life soti, you just know what’s necessary for the dream to continue along its path.

That night, I felt...

When father and mother had died. I was all alone. The bitterness of grief, overwhelming. It’s surging back with that oppressive sensation.

My sorrow as an orphan child, feeling pain, feeling wrong.

My ache behind it was far worse and the nas I now put are agre pictures of that oppression suddenly choking that night.

It tortured in my chest, and lungs, and within my sleep until I could no more, and woke up in painful cold sweat again.

It was the middle of the night. Bleue’s arm fell away from my neck where it had lied as I sat.

Her holding as she sleeps soundly makes my heart race in a painful way right now, I can’t bear it anymore.

This warmth makes my heart and stomach pulse together as one, as dreadful remnants of nightmare still sip through my eyes and mouth.

My entrails throb again. I feel death. I jump out and rush to the window and so air to refresh .

My stomach is screaming at , as my nightmares are shrieking and I’m soon vomiting all my acids outside.

A minute of convulsive pain later, I’m trying to catch my breath again, leaning outside.

That sludgy hell in the depths of my mind and mories, it’s erupting again.

Bleue woke up and is calling my na, and getting closer. I shiver.

I raise my hand as a sign for her to stop.

R - Don’t co any closer! Please...

B - Rose, what’s wrong?

R - I’m just feeling... Like I had a painful nightmare...

B - About ?

R - No. Just... So old demons of flesh of mine.

She withdrew the hand that was about to touch mine I notice, and sigh in relief without realising.

B - This aversion of touches makes your life a nightmare at tis.

R - It cos and goes... Tonight’s just not a good night...

B - To think you managed to have sex with that crow woman, and twice at that, is weird.

R - Bleue!

I’m shocked. I can’t breathe. I’m gasping for air.

I’m falling in a sitting posture there, unable to breathe.

Bleue is standing before , conflicted at whether she should try to help or avoid touching for now.

I feel absolutely awful but I need help and try to raise my hand to show it.

She rushes to help , and lifts my head slightly to open my airway. It doesn’t change a thing.

I’m collapsing in her hands, terrified.

~

The most grueso scars of my life, and lives before rather, still cos to haunt periodically, like astrological curses. If curses and blessings are linked to the proximity of celestial bodies, then there is one for the guilt of murdering a child up there.

There is one for the torture inflicted upon by Ogre. There is one for the crow. There is one for each murder.

And a few others much, much older, for the years of the first Rose, back in the beginning of the 20th century.

The ones I talked too much about. The oldest one I can barely rember, for it’s before my adoption my adoption by my true parents... And there is one, wider and darker than all others, old, harder to rember. The darkest one, I keep eluding and never spoke about. My parents gone, I’m all alone with it...

Blu read it in my mories I know, and never spoke about it.

Bleue doesn’t know, and can only witness what it made of .

I myself don’t quite rember.

I was too young.

But if there is one nightmare that twisted my persona during its construction, it is not the guilt of murder. It’s the unbearable guilt of being a victim.

I can see Ogre’s sadistic smile and her sharp clear blue eyes. I think she knew.

Ann probably knew...

Everyone...

Scarlett... Elise... Father. Mother... They all knew.

Everyone but Blue...

I’m bursting into tears and cries, even though I’m still unconscious.

You were the only one left I couldn’t see a defiled reflection of myself in your eyes.

I was precocious...

Very precocious.

I always thought afterwards that the sll of blood must have been like a trigger for so monsters.

I just can’t voice it out. I still can’t.

A curse entered my flesh, and never really left.

Reality stopped feeling real to then.

I beca a monster.

Slowly.

Surely.

Stained, tainted soul above the abyss of flesh, pain and misery.

The truth is I beca a monster far before the new world forced to act as one, and reveal that truth.

I wish what I romantically called my thorns were more than toxic poisonous bile suddenly finding purpose. The faeces of my soul.

My body is lting in its nightmare.

~

The sleep is painful.

The torture repeats itself, again.

I’m all alone.

If I tell you Bleue, it will kill , drowning in my fears, in my illogical fears.

They’re just a suffering I was never able to overco. I’m ashad.

Even though I then grew up.

Even though I ca to a new world.

Even though I died, and ca back to life.

Even though I know you love ...

~