his mind, spinning so violently he wondered if he was going to vomit.
He sat up and got ready to jump off the bed if needed. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.
Soon he was meditating, pulling in Bastial Energy to feel the warmth push out his panic.
He exhaled, letting it all out and opening his eyes. Jessend’s hand was on his back. He’d almost broken down, but now that he hadn’t, he felt strangely strong. Especially with Jessend there—someone who knew what he was feeling.
They gazed into each other’s eyes, no words exchanged. Yet, he felt he was having a conversation.
We share the same pain. Do you know how to get rid of it?
He let his body back down, and she turned away and followed. He pulled her into him, holding her small body tightly. She kissed his arm and squeezed him as well.
“Both parents?” Jessend asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s terrible. How old were you?”
The pain he thought was gone came back with the memories of their faces. It was starting to overwhelm him, so he took a breath and pulled Jessend into him even harder. A soft whimper escaped from her, but she didn’t seem to object, pressing his arms down on her with her small hands.
“It’s very difficult to talk about,” he managed to utter.
She spun around to face him, burying her face against his neck and blowing. It made a flatulent sound and tickled him to the point of bursting laughter.
At first he was angry, but then she pulled away smiling, and he realized the pain was gone again.
She spun back around, nestling her back and rear against him once again.
“It’s easier to forget, to leave the memories buried rather than deal with them. Isn’t it?” Jessend said, her solemn tone a stark contrast to her recent playful attempt at making him laugh.
He held her close. “It is, but easier isn’t always healthier. I was nine when it happened.” The familiar feeling of wanting to cry came over him. But as usual, it felt like he didn’t know how. It was like something was holding him, preventing him from letting out the tears, from opening himself up.
It was the barrier, he realized. It was the wall he’d been building throughout the years, the one that kept his emotions trapped where he wouldn’t feel them. He could feel himself pushing against it. Deep down, his emotions were swelling, the force of them causing the wall to bend.
He worried about what would happen if it broke, but he almost wanted to see for himself.
He heard Jessend sniffle. “I miss him so much it hurts.”
Turned away from him, Cleve could hear Jessend crying.
“It’s painful to the point where it makes you wish you could forget your memories,” Cleve said. “But then you feel ashamed at the thought of wishing to forget.”
The wall was barely holding now.
Jessend sniffled again and let out a weep, taking a breath to stifle the next.
“But it seems that forgetting is the only way to get over it,” she whispered.
Hearing her say what he’d always believed broke him. His barrier shattered, and tears freely flowed from his eyes.
She interlaced her fingers with his, pressing his hand against her heart.
“I know there’s another way besides forgetting,” Cleve said. “I just haven’t figured it out yet. Forgetting is wrong.”
She turned with tears streaming, throwing her arms over his chest, pressing herself against him.
“I know it’s wrong.” She held in a shaky gasp of a weep so she could continue. “And I hate myself for thinking it.”
Tears continued to explode out of him. Yet somehow there was no pain, just sadness. He wept without shame or remorse. He wept with strength, knowing this was a way of healing. His body encouraged him to keep at it.
This was wrecking his wall, which he’d constantly worried it would, but he didn’t even feel scared. He knew he would need to rebuild it, but it was just like knowing he had a long day coming with a lot of hard work. It was something he could do. It might be
He sat up and got ready to jump off the bed if needed. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.
Soon he was meditating, pulling in Bastial Energy to feel the warmth push out his panic.
He exhaled, letting it all out and opening his eyes. Jessend’s hand was on his back. He’d almost broken down, but now that he hadn’t, he felt strangely strong. Especially with Jessend there—someone who knew what he was feeling.
They gazed into each other’s eyes, no words exchanged. Yet, he felt he was having a conversation.
We share the same pain. Do you know how to get rid of it?
He let his body back down, and she turned away and followed. He pulled her into him, holding her small body tightly. She kissed his arm and squeezed him as well.
“Both parents?” Jessend asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s terrible. How old were you?”
The pain he thought was gone came back with the memories of their faces. It was starting to overwhelm him, so he took a breath and pulled Jessend into him even harder. A soft whimper escaped from her, but she didn’t seem to object, pressing his arms down on her with her small hands.
“It’s very difficult to talk about,” he managed to utter.
She spun around to face him, burying her face against his neck and blowing. It made a flatulent sound and tickled him to the point of bursting laughter.
At first he was angry, but then she pulled away smiling, and he realized the pain was gone again.
She spun back around, nestling her back and rear against him once again.
“It’s easier to forget, to leave the memories buried rather than deal with them. Isn’t it?” Jessend said, her solemn tone a stark contrast to her recent playful attempt at making him laugh.
He held her close. “It is, but easier isn’t always healthier. I was nine when it happened.” The familiar feeling of wanting to cry came over him. But as usual, it felt like he didn’t know how. It was like something was holding him, preventing him from letting out the tears, from opening himself up.
It was the barrier, he realized. It was the wall he’d been building throughout the years, the one that kept his emotions trapped where he wouldn’t feel them. He could feel himself pushing against it. Deep down, his emotions were swelling, the force of them causing the wall to bend.
He worried about what would happen if it broke, but he almost wanted to see for himself.
He heard Jessend sniffle. “I miss him so much it hurts.”
Turned away from him, Cleve could hear Jessend crying.
“It’s painful to the point where it makes you wish you could forget your memories,” Cleve said. “But then you feel ashamed at the thought of wishing to forget.”
The wall was barely holding now.
Jessend sniffled again and let out a weep, taking a breath to stifle the next.
“But it seems that forgetting is the only way to get over it,” she whispered.
Hearing her say what he’d always believed broke him. His barrier shattered, and tears freely flowed from his eyes.
She interlaced her fingers with his, pressing his hand against her heart.
“I know there’s another way besides forgetting,” Cleve said. “I just haven’t figured it out yet. Forgetting is wrong.”
She turned with tears streaming, throwing her arms over his chest, pressing herself against him.
“I know it’s wrong.” She held in a shaky gasp of a weep so she could continue. “And I hate myself for thinking it.”
Tears continued to explode out of him. Yet somehow there was no pain, just sadness. He wept without shame or remorse. He wept with strength, knowing this was a way of healing. His body encouraged him to keep at it.
This was wrecking his wall, which he’d constantly worried it would, but he didn’t even feel scared. He knew he would need to rebuild it, but it was just like knowing he had a long day coming with a lot of hard work. It was something he could do. It might be
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