Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 140940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
I lowered my hand and clenched it into a fist. “But I cannot just leave Emily to face this alone. If the original is in there, trapped in that memory, in that fear. . .how can I turn away?”
“It is not about turning away, Kazimir.” Sadness washed over his face. “It is about understanding boundaries. Healing. . .it is not something you can do for someone else, no matter how much you want to.”
Desperation crept into my voice. “But what if my presence could offer her strength? What if I could help the original confront her past?”
“And what if your presence, as a man, does more harm than good?”
I tensed.
“Remember, we are in Emily’s mind. For Amber and maybe the original, the presence of any man, even with the best intentions, could be traumatic.”
Those words stung me. “So, what? I just stand here? I leave the original to suffer?”
Pavel placed a hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is provide space for Emily to heal. You have the clue. Give it to her.”
“But, is it enough?”
“Support does not always mean diving into the fray. Maybe, just maybe, it is Emily’s battle to fight, her door to open.”
I looked back at the door. “My mouse must reclaim her power. Not me.”
“And she must do so in her own time, and in her own way.”
The realization settled heavy on my heart. Behind that door lay not just the horrors of the past, but the possibility of healing, of a future where Emily could possibly live free from the shadows that had haunted her mind for so long.
The original is there. What does she look like? What would she say? How would it help them all?
Pavel spoke, “Sometimes, the most profound act of love is. . .”
I put my view on him.
“Sometimes it is found not in the battles we fight for others, but in the quiet moments we stand by, ready to support them as they fight their own battles.”
Those damned words wormed their way into my soul, and I felt something shift within me. The familiar urgency to act, to swoop in and save the day—it was still there.
But now, there was also a newfound sense of patience—a quiet understanding that sometimes love meant stepping back rather than charging forward.
Pavel breathed a sigh of relief. “You finally understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Pavel nodded. “Now. . .close your eyes. It is time.”
Without any hesitation, I did as he said and shut away that horrid view of the original’s bloody door.
Now only darkness served as my view.
“Wake up, Kazimir.” Pavel’s words felt like a tether, pulling me back from the abyss of Emily’s subconscious, from the darkness that threatened to swallow me whole. A part of me resisted, wanting to stay, to fight, to protect, but another, deeper part understood the truth in his words.
This was Emily’s journey.
Her battle.
I had to let go.
Mysh, I love you.
The ground vanishing beneath my feet, and the sensation of falling seized me again.
And there was no more Pavel nor the haunting hallway.
Instead, I was enveloped by an abyss, a void where time and space lost all meaning. The darkness was not just around me; it filled me, a cold, suffocating blanket that threatened to erase my sense of self.
Yet, as I fell, a strange serenity began to wash over me too.
The fear, the urgency, the desperate need to heal and protect—it all started to fade, replaced by an eerie calm.
The layers of Emily’s mind peeled away from my senses like layers of an onion.
It was as if by entering the freefall, I had accepted the uncontrollable nature of my deepest fears and my profoundest pains.
But there was a clear separation now.
I was now an observer.
No longer a participant.
I was leaving her mind, and the sensation of falling slowed, as if I were drifting through water.
Slowly, painstakingly, I opened my eyes and the darkness began to ebb, replaced by pinpricks of light, fragments of my own consciousness and blurry faces.
I am back and laying on something hard. But. . .who are all these people around me and in my room?
My eyelids fluttered against the harsh intrusion of reality’s light.
Voices sounded.
Two women were arguing.
I shook my head as if that could give me a better view of the blurry movement in front of me.
Delphine’s voice came through the fog. “You think you’re slick.”
Baba responded. “I do not.”
“I saw that painting in the living room. Did you paint all of her alters yourself?”
“Emily did that all by herself with no coaxing from me.”
“But, I bet you gave her the paint and canvas.”
Baba remained silent.
Shapes and colors blurred into existence, slowly forming into recognizable forms.
I can see now.
I lifted my head.
Baba and Delphine stood over me as I lay on the ground inside of a circle. Baba wore a pink robe with some frilly collar peeking out the top. Meanwhile, Delphine had a purple bonnet over her head and a long black jacket over what appeared to be gray pajamas.