MELISSA

The stories about my birth and the events that led up to it regularly did come around. My dad usually did the narrating, I guess this was due to his ability to paint a picture in the minds of people, he was the clan's most popular storyteller after all. Can't blame my mom for not being able to tell me these stories despite how badly I wanted to hear them from her perspective. After all, this was a woman who passed out twice on the night of my birth, yes twice, yet somehow I'm here. She finally was able to tell me how it felt on the night I was pushed into this world, a series of remarkable events flooded her with memories of the pains, the distress, the shock, the joy that could be held onto on that night.

I now wish I never got to know. No, not because I'm now aware of the pains she felt when she birthed me. Knowledge of that wasn't pleasing either but I'm old enough to understand that certain pains are a necessity for any creature that exists in my world, especially creatures like me, like us.

The reason I now wish I never got to know his way bigger than that. Everything now makes sense, those patchy areas that even dad in his expertise in story crafting couldn't pass onto me, how could he? He tells what he sees and makes you see what he tells. It was bigger than his vision than anyone's vision.

How can a story cost a life? Before my dad died he always told me I was making silly assumptions and placing an unnecessary burden on my already filled shoulders, but I always felt it was right. It was the only explanation that made sense, It was just a cold! I could see the shock—the surge that hit as the memories came to her. I could feel her life force slowly dry out with each word she spoke. It had to be the cause of her death, there's no other explanation. Mother was a strong woman, she had faced the toughest of challenges any woman in Daneland could face. When other women lazied about she was out there working, when we all felt low she always tried to be the voice of motivation. No way some damn cold would've led to her death, it isn't possible.

My dad and eventually the clan's elders tried almost everything to make me let go, never thought I'd say this but maybe I should have done so. But thoughts, thoughts like this feel like a betrayal—a betrayal of everything I've done in the past 5 years, a betrayal of my mother's love and blatant selfishness, but what can I do? This is the closest to my limit I've ever been at. My limit? What exactly is my limit? What is this madness I'm living in? A few years ago I definitely wouldn't have thought that I could push myself this far, but can I go any further than this? Do I even have an option? Oh good heavens! Well, there is always the easiest route out, could just fucking jump down from this cave and end it all right here, that would be soothing—or not. I would be an even bigger fool than I am now if I did that, but then I would never get to feel like a fool. The burden of thinking will cease to be mine, whatever they think of me wouldn't even bother me, they can spit at my dead body, kick me and curse at my lifeless flesh and it'll do no harm to me, I think.