Welcome to the panic room
Written as: Rose Wilson
Have you ever sat in the dark, staring up at the ceiling in the hopes that stars would fill the black and ness; hope would fill despair? For Rose Wilson, it was a nightly ritual for the young woman. She'd lie in her bed, a place most considered a sanctuary but to her, a purgatory; look up at blackness as the ghost of her memories flickered along the ceiling- projecting from the regret which lay behind her eye. It was a melancholy ritual. But, one that the woman had learned to find comfort in.
At night, when the darkness enveloped the room, creeping up from the depths of the shadows and reclaiming what was rightfully it, would be when Rose truly felt at home. Residing within the limbo of her reverie, taking shelter in the what-ifs, warming herself by the fire of what might have been. It was a sad time. But, it was her time.
Closing her eyes, she focused on the face of her father which had quickly become a blur. A man she had looked up to for so long; even when he had initially turned her away. All she had wanted was his approval. It was why she had trained so hard, why she had allowed herself to be moulded into whatever he so desired. She had harmed so many in his name. Sure, she had come to her senses in the end, betraying him. But, that didn't make up for her previous actions. Nothing truly ever could.
And then, on top of that of course was the breakup. It had been messy. She had broken Jason's heart and she knew it. But, watching him with anybody else made her start to shatter. Though, she knew she had no right to speak. How could she? Her love for him had been real- and still lingered underneath the surface. Yet another emotion for her to keep locked away in the deepest reveries of her mind. Another pain to go unspoken.
Turning in her bed, her gaze landed on the window, the street lamps illuminating through the frosted pane- the only form of light that shone within the room. She lingered on the fact that she felt like she no longer belonged witTitanstitans, not after everything which had happened. Instead of feeling part of the team, she felt like a loose end. A piece of the puzzle that simply didn't fit right. A common feeling for the woman. But one she ultimately found herself always running from. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to rationalise with the hurricane that ravaged her. But it was impossible. It continued to rip down houses of self-esteem- and pull up mountains of self-doubt. She knew she didn't belong. She knew it was time she left.
Rising from the bed, she made her way over to the drawers- slowly pulling out clothes and stuffing them into a backpack. Her logical thoughts fight with her need to run. The duality of a woman who had lost so much; most of it being her own doing.
She didn't linger long, foot on the windowsill as she hesitated for just a moment. Before, becoming one with the darkness once more.
