My Peace (Beautifully Broken 5)

She welcomed him, and gave him lemonade and a rest from his weary day, and he repaid her by assaulting her later. What kind of monster is he?

The outrage that I know I feel is dulled by the drugs.

I know it is there, lurking in my heart, though.

My anger is a slumbering beast. It has always been there, hidden from the world. I masked it, but I couldn’t exorcise it.

It is a part of me.

I know that now.

I sit on the floor, and I grab a box.

I’m three boxes ahead of schedule, and my captors like that. In fact, they rewarded me today with the journal page. I’m sure they’ll continue.

The higher I get, the more pages they’ll give me.

The drugs dull the pain. It’s a win-win situation.

I shoot up, and the familiar burn tears into me, spreading through my arm like a raging fire. I drop my head back, and I sit in the window seat, and I stare out at the lake.

It makes me feel small. It is vast and wide, and it could suck me in and drown me.

In this moment, I almost wish it would.

It would suck away all of this.

There would be no more worry, no more fear.

I close my eyes. I know this is the heroin talking. But more and more, it’s getting harder to tell the difference.

* * *

When I wake, there is another journal page in my lap.

They’d been in here, and I hadn’t even woke.

I blink my eyes, then blink them harder, trying to focus.

I’m fucked up.

More fucked up than I’ve ever been.

It’s their point, I guess.

I look at the computer monitor.

Zuzu is sitting on her bed, and she’s crying. I have her golden curl in my pocket, and I grasp it. She must be lonely. She must be wondering where her mother and I are.

“I’m here,” I tell her, although I know she can’t hear. “I’m here.”

She still cries, and I’m still alone.

I slump into the seat. I read the paper.

Tomorrow is the day.

Everything is planned.