Day 188,
Exhausted but at least I managed to dodge the Catacombs nightmare. Lin and Maiko stayed up through the night with me. One more thing I owe them for. To their credit, they tried to make a fun event out of it. Or rather Lin did and dragged the other two of us into it.
They’ve both gone to sleep now. At least a nap. I think I’ll do the same shortly. Tired as I am, I don’t think the morning sunlight will bother me too much.
Just got back up. Judging by the shadows out the window (or rather, lack thereof) it looks to be around noon but I hardly feel rested. By the state of my bedsheets it seems I did a lot of tossing and turning, although if I dreamt I remember naught of it.
I hear Lin and Maiko in the other room so I guess they’re already up. Wonder if they slept any better than I did?
Writing to calm myself. Something to concentrate on. Steady my breathing. Keep from slipping into a full-fledged panic state.
It happened just as Lin was on her way out the door. She’d given me a final once over, declared me no longer sick, and left me with dietary and medicinal advice for helping to regain my strength. And advised me to get more proper rest. Almost funny in hindsight, that. Last checkup complete, she expressed that she wished she could stay longer but had other work to get back to.
Just as she stepped across the threshold I found myself in the Catacomb Depths.
Alone. Standing in a corridor lined with sarcophagi set into ornate niches. My shattered body had healed, but in many places not straightly or cleanly. My posture was stooped in an unfamiliar way and the agony of my previous nightmare had been replaced by a multitude of dull aches.
And then I was back in the house.
Disoriented by the shift, I lost my balance and barely managed to catch the couch to save myself from falling to the floor.
Shaking, borderline hyperventilating, and heedless of Lin and Maiko’s words of concern and rushing to my side I scrambled to the desk in my room where I’d left this journal.
Trying to calm myself.
I can hear their words behind me, but I’m not processing them. Don’t turn around. Can’t bear to see their faces. Not yet.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Put the pen down and turn around.
I am awake. This is real. The rain is falling softly outside. I am in my the house. Maiko is here too. Lin is also still here. I am not in the Catacombs. Tomorrow I will ride with James and family back into the Village for market day. I will talk to Pat about what happened and then I will visit Siren Overlook in an attempt to help calm myself.
It happened again.
This time I let Lin and Maiko help me instead of going straight for this journal. In fact, it was hours ago and now I’m readying myself for bed.
Going back to where I left off.
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It took a concentrated effort, but I was able to slow my breathing and heart, put down the pen, and turn to Lin and Maiko and calmly apologize for what had just happened my behavior. Affecting an air of embarrassment, I told them what I saw, that it had made me start to panic, and that the first thing my frantic mind had latched onto as a way to calm itself was my writing.
I tried to make it all sound as ordinary as if I were apologizing for having gotten distracted and accidentally tracked mud into the house.
They were scared of me.
Maiko was expressive in a way I’d rarely seen her, both in face and posture. And that expression was one that brought to mind having just stumbled across a wild animal chewing on the corpse of your friend and being unsure if it was about to notice and turn on you next.
Contrastingly, Lin’s face was schooled. Emotionless. Her back straight and her hand gestures precise as she thanked me for the apology and explanation. Her voice, even. Tone, clinical.
As hard as I insisted that I was fine now and that they needn’t worry, Lin was harder in her insistence that either she stay or I come with her back to the Village, and she didn’t want to make me walk that distance in my “uncertain state.” Dizziness and hallucination were symptoms I had experienced at the height of my illness, and she had a duty to ensure I wasn’t having some manner of relapse, as unheard of as that was.
I thanked her but said that I believed this was related to trying to circumvent the Catacombs nightmare rather than anything medical.
If it’s mystical, then that’s all the more reason I should have friends nearby.
Her voice was still that of the doctor and not the friend as she said that.
Conceding this argument, I attempted to at least change the topic. Best for all of us to focus on something else instead of dwelling on this.
Several hours and topic changes later, we were gathered around the kitchen table, discussing options for procuring a boat with which to visit Iole when it happened again.
Just as before, there was no transition. No process to the transportation. Just suddenly there. In a different stretch of tunnel but my body still in the same condition. And then back.
The whole episode couldn’t have lasted more than a second, if even that long, but it affected me no less strongly for its brevity. Even worse than the first time, as it stole away the coldly comforting possibility of being a one time fluke.
As I said, I told my companions what happened this time instead of going straight for the journal. Tried to calm myself by speaking aloud. Tried to allow them to calm me.
I broke down crying.
Confessed my fears about my own sanity. My grip on reality. Fears I’d had long before this most recent and dramatic addition of fuel to the fire.
They tried to comfort me. To reassure me.
In truth, I don’t think either of them really knew what to say.
They probably think me mad.
I certainly worry I might be.
Topics changed again and plans for tomorrow were agreed upon. To bed with me once more now. My eyes can barely manage to keep open as I write these final lines of the night.
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