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The day had just begun.
The sun beamed warmly above the flower field outside of the rather solemn looking children’s home, the morning dew against them sparkling under its rays, warm and lovely, glittering so sweetly that it was difficult to ignore. The sound of the running stream was soothing and familiar that even the usual early bird that was Issa, who traditionally leapt out of bed as soon as she awoke to the sun’s rays, lied there for just a moment longer to bask in its sound.
She eventually stepped out of her bed, carefully, tip-toeing across the floor despite being alone in the home, near abandoned before she stepped into it. She maneuvered around the floor in a pair of clean white socks, simple and plain with no frills, yet still comfortable to her. She knew not of the outside world. The sweet, beaming solitude was a welcome distraction from her constant flipping between reality and…whatever separate universe she landed into. It was the one time she felt whole.
She slowly tip-toed out of the door, taking off her socks first as to not discomfort her when she stepped into the field, the fresh, lonely smell of last night’s rain still softly present in the air. Quietly, she lied in the field, considering getting a handful of flowers for herself, but she only lied there, the petals brushing across her fingertips gently. There was no one else here.
Issa only had herself, and as time went on she was becoming okay with that. After all, who would want to take in someone so burdening to the fabric of reality? Wouldn’t it hurt them?
Issa knew it would. That is why she lies alone, in the field, sighing sweetly and looking up at the clear skies. They hadn’t been clear in weeks.
Issa was happy to feel the sun’s warmth upon her again. She was happy to feel the flowers against her hands, the grass against her feet. And she was more than happy to have the opportunity to stand and skip to the stream and gently place her hands into the water. Just to feel where the stream was going.
Issa was content.
~°~
Issa was tired again. She wished she wasn’t so easily tired, or so frequently sick. Only she could take care of herself, after all. She wondered what would happen if she caught pneumonia, the kind that she knew would kill her without help.
She was becoming self sufficient enough for the answer to be to help herself, or die.
It wasn’t a healthy way of thinking for someone her age. But that had never crossed her mind. This was normal to her. She wondered why, when she went out, why people would look at her funny. Maybe it was because she was alone.
Being sick was miserable for Issa exactly because she was so young and no-one ever taught her to take care of herself. It was something she was forced to learn herself. She would’ve preferred to have it in any way that wasn’t this, but this way was all she had.
Her mind wandered from her for a moment, and she brushed her soft, brunette hair out of her eyes absentmindedly. Issa never knew how to do her hair. All she knew was how to brush it. No-one ever taught her how.
Issa had no friends her age, no-one to take care of her, no-one to even check on her. She lived a lonely life, perhaps the loneliest that one could possibly live, and strangely enough, she resented not one person for it. Not even herself.
The more her mind wandered, the more distant she became from herself.
When Issa opened her eyes again, she looked upon her hand and gasped, her throat a slight bit hitched, as if words were stuck there she couldn’t get out.
When Issa opened her eyes again, her hands lied next to her, messily drawn in crayon.
~°~
All over again. I’m here all over again.
Her mind was clouded now. She looked about the broken, colorful reality surrounding her, her breath hitching in her throat, as if she had forgotten to breathe. A silhouette caught her eye, for just a moment.
A silhouette…oh, what was it?
She was becoming clearer and clearer in Issa’s vision. Issa lied down on what was left of her reality and listened distantly to the conversation suddenly brewing quite close to her.
“Do you see her?”
“Yes, I do. Quite well, actually.”
“Oh, she looks pale, doesn’t she?”
“A little bit, yes. Do you have any business with her, Harriet?”
“No, none at all. I’ve only heard of her. She looks sicker than I presumed! It is tragic, I say…”
“Perhaps she does…I do not remember seeing a child of such ill health since I had lived.”
“Shall I take her with us, Nunc?”
“If she would let you. She seems of the resilient type, if she is of this world!”
“Doesn’t she?”
…They must have been talking about her.
Issa tried to refocus her clouded vision to see the figure in front of her. She seemed a friendly woman to Issa, tall and a bit round-looking with a pair of disarming violet-colored eyes.
“Are you alright?” She asked, sweetly, holding out her hand to Issa. Issa looked at her hand for a moment, and loosely held on to it.
“I’m fine, thank you.” She whispered, getting up off of the ground, her vision hazing a bit. “You seem ill. Come with me, please.” She looked at her solemnly, with an almost pleading look.
“I’m fine, really.” Issa whispered to her, softer this time, only the slightest bit more convincing. “I can visit you, though. What’s your name?”
“Harriet.” She uttered, softly. For a brief moment, she looked upon her and sighed, but smiled kindly and readjusted herself.
“My name is Issa. It’s good to meet you.” Issa looked to the side absentmindedly. “I want to leave here. I can visit you.”
Harriet sighed in resignation.
“Okay.”
~°~
Issa didn’t usually visit people. But she wanted to be nice. Harriet seemed disappointed that she wouldn’t stay. She also seemed disappointed that she hardly spoke after that.
Issa went dead silent when she got there, shaking the hand of a man at some point, potentially Harriet’s uncle from what she had heard from the conversation they were having before she slipped back out of the vortex, but that was about all she had done up until she shuffled nervously into some room she presumed was a spare and sat there in silence.
Issa was most definitely ill. She didn’t know what with, but it was mainly hurting her limbs. She felt a bit dizzy, but she wouldn’t say that to anyone. The pain felt distant when she was alone in this room.
After what was apparently a few hours, the same man whose hand she had shaken before entered the room, a concerned expression on his rather strange looking face, with a strangely elegant mop of white hair on his head. The way it sat and curled on his head piqued Issa’s interest, but she had no room to ask about it now.
“Harriet was asking about you.” He said, in a soothing tone, as not to scare her. He slowly got closer to the bed she was lying in, kneeling in front of it to look at her. “Neither of us saw you come up here. She was worried about you.”
Issa looked away shyly, twirling her hair in her fingers. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Just hurting a bit.” Her expression betrayed the facade of slighted pain she was trying to put across him. Anyone who saw her would know she was evidently hurting.
“I can’t say I’m very sure of that.” He uttered, gently. Issa looked down in silence, before holding out her hand again. “I never told you my name. I’m sorry. I’m Issa.”
He shook her hand amiably, smiling despite his concern. “That’s a nice name you have.”
“Thank you. What’s yours?” Issa looked aside awkwardly.
“James.” He said, smiling, looking aside and sighing in a rather distant manner. “Perhaps I was a bit uncouth as to not introduce myself, too.”
Issa shrugs calmly in response. She tries to prop herself up, but a sudden aching in her limbs knocks her right back down. James’ expression of worry returned.
“Issa, you are unwell. You are in pain, aren’t you?” James looked at her with an expression almost desperate, or perhaps sick with worry. Issa muttered softly. “It’s nothing, really. You shouldn’t worry so much, it will hurt you.”
“Are you not equally hurt?”
“It’s okay.”
Just like Harriet, James wasn’t buying it. And he definitely wasn’t going to tolerate seeing someone so young in so much pain.
He got up, inhaling for a moment, as if contemplating something, before very gently picking Issa up off of the bed, cradling her like one would a tired young girl, her arms hanging over his shoulders. Issa felt bad for making him worry so much. She felt bad for being in so much pain as to make him so anxious. But being held was oddly comforting. It reminded her of her father, in some strange, distant way.
She felt herself being carried downstairs. She could faintly see Harriet glancing at her in mild surprise, but was too pained and tired to acknowledge it now.
“When did she get upstairs, Nunc?”
“A few hours ago. She’s hurting.”
“Is she? She insisted so strongly she was okay when we first came across her…”
“She undermined her own health greatly. She had collapsed in pain just by trying to readjust herself while she was lying down. Something must have made her aversive.”
“Oh, poor thing!” Harriet cried, looking at Issa sympathetically, running her fingers through her hair, now slightly tangled from her having lied down so long.
She knew well she was too stubborn to stay permanently, but the best both she and James could do was to take care of her while she was here.
~°~
Issa hated that she was always in pain.
Issa hated that she could hardly be happy because of the way reality shifted if she thought or felt too strongly. Issa hated that she always undermined her pain. Issa hated that she was so stubborn.
Issa hated that she could never accept help.
When the first few tears rolled down her face, she expected to be back in the vortex instantly. But nothing seemed to happen. Perhaps being near ghouls suppressed it to some extent.
So why couldn’t she just put aside her stubbornness and stay here?
It could still happen. It could hurt them. She sees that such rapid reality shifting can hurt ghouls, too. She felt like she was selfless for it, but at the same time she felt so selfish for it.
The tears seemed to fall endlessly by this point, and she bit the inside of her cheeks as not to make too much sound or tremble too much, for she would only be in further pain. It was enough to suppress her pain, but it wasn’t enough for her to be unheard.
She didn’t notice it in her current state, but Harriet had come inside of her room to check on her, her eyes widening when she saw her. Issa felt she may have just looked like a frustrated child, but the despair in her eyes was evident. Harriet’s eyes softened the closer she got to her, and the next time she spoke, her voice softened, too.
“Oh, poor girl…” She near whispered, gently picking up Issa and cradling her in her arms. “It’s alright…oh, don’t cry!”
Issa still kept crying, even while in her arms, but the feeling was comforting, and she didn’t really feel like trying to contest against her emotions right now–even if she did, it was futile. They’d clearly won.
Harriet’s gentle words radiated through her mind as she continued to cradle her, and before she knew it, her sobs reduced into slight whimpers, then into hitched breaths.
And, per usual, when Issa was done crying, she became tired.
So, she fell asleep, still lying in her arms, still listening to the gentle words Harriet whispered to her, even if it didn’t seem like she was.