The days passed in a haze of uncertainty. I tried to piece together the fragments of my life, to understand the person I had become after everything that had happened. But the more I tried to focus, the more elusive the answers seemed. It was as though the weight of my past was pressing down on me, pulling me back into the shadows.
I kept myself busy, working odd jobs here and there, trying to keep my mind occupied. But it was hard. Every interaction felt like a performance, like I was pretending to be someone I wasn't, someone normal. And every time I saw a hint of recognition in someone's eyes, I felt the mask start to crack. I had done terrible things, and the idea that someone might know, or worse, suspect, haunted me.
Mara remained a constant presence in my life, her quiet support a lifeline that I didn't fully understand. She never pushed me to talk, never asked questions that would force me to confront the past. She seemed content to just be there, a steady anchor in the storm. But sometimes, I could see the doubt in her eyes, the flicker of concern when she thought I wasn't looking. She was waiting for me to break, to fall apart completely. I didn't blame her. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up the facade either.
Alan, on the other hand, had become even more distant. He spent long hours away, disappearing for days at a time. Whenever he returned, he was quiet, withdrawn, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I wanted to ask him what was going on, what he was running from, but I didn't. We were both lost, and neither of us knew how to find our way out.
One evening, after yet another restless day of pretending to be fine, I found myself standing at the window, staring out at the city below. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, the hum of life moving beneath me, unaware of the darkness that had shaped my existence. The world seemed so full of noise, so full of motion, but all I could feel was the suffocating silence inside me.
"Why do I feel like this?" I whispered to no one in particular. "Why does it feel like I'm trapped in a cage of my own making?"
I didn't expect an answer, but somehow, it came.
"You're not trapped," Mara's voice came from behind me, soft but firm. "You've already taken the first step. You're still here. You're still trying."
I turned to face her, unsure of what to say. She had been right there all along, through everything. Maybe she was right about me, too—that I wasn't beyond saving. But even now, it felt like a lie I couldn't quite believe.
"I don't know who I am anymore," I admitted, the weight of my words sinking in as I spoke them. "I thought I did once, but now… now I'm just a shadow. I've done things. Things that can never be undone. And no matter how many steps forward I take, I feel like I'm always two steps behind."
Mara crossed the room slowly, her eyes searching mine for something, some answer I didn't have. "The past doesn't define you, Psychobi. It's what you do now that matters. And right now, you're choosing to fight. You're choosing to change."
I wanted to believe her. I really did. But change felt like an impossible task, an idea too abstract to grasp. Every time I tried to imagine a future, it was always clouded by the horrors of my past. The lives I had ruined, the destruction I had caused, it all followed me like a shadow I couldn't outrun.
"I don't even know how to start," I confessed, the vulnerability in my voice strange and foreign.
"You don't have to have it all figured out," she said. "You just have to keep going. Take one step at a time."
I looked out at the city again, the lights flickering like distant stars in the night. For the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of something—hope, maybe? A tiny, fragile spark in the darkness. It was hard to hold on to, but it was there.
Maybe Mara was right. Maybe it wasn't about the big picture, about trying to change everything at once. Maybe it was about taking the next step, however small it was. Maybe it was about choosing to live each day with the knowledge that I had the power to shape it, even if I didn't know how.
I sighed, feeling the weight of everything slowly starting to lift, just a little. The hunger was still there, lurking in the back of my mind, but it no longer had the hold it once did. It didn't control me anymore. I was controlling it. And for the first time in years, I felt something other than emptiness. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make me want to keep going.
"Maybe I don't have to figure everything out right away," I said, looking back at Mara with a small, tentative smile. "Maybe I just need to take things one day at a time."
She smiled back, her eyes filled with something close to relief. "That's all any of us can do."
And for the first time in a long time, I believed her.
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