Within Amelia's Mind

The room spun. The walls closed in, then stretched out like elastic, warping into impossible shapes and colors. Amelia tried to focus, but everything felt like it was slipping through her fingers. Her thoughts were a mess of disconnected fragments, and she couldn't piece them together no matter how hard she tried.

She pulled the blanket around her shoulders, her fingers tingling as she ran them along the soft fabric. The sensation felt far too sharp, like every touch was a crack in her skin, a moment of reality breaking through. She wanted to escape it, but she couldn't stop herself. She couldn't stop the flood of noise in her mind.

Her eyes fluttered open and closed, trying to focus on something, anything. But the world around her kept shifting, every color blending into another, every sound vibrating inside her skull. She could hear the hum of the lights overhead, the dull thrum of the refrigerator in the other room—sounds she'd never normally notice, but now, they felt like they were consuming her.

She pressed her hands against her ears, trying to block out the noise, but it only made it louder. Stop it. Stop it, she thought, but the thoughts didn't listen. They only grew louder, growing more insistent.

And then, a face flickered in front of her.

Derek.

It was blurry at first, but as she focused on it, it grew sharper. His features were twisted in a way that didn't seem right, like a reflection in a broken mirror. He wasn't looking at her. No, his eyes were cold, distant. Amelia felt a pang in her chest, a sharp ache that made her want to curl into herself and disappear.

He's angry at you. The thought was sudden, intrusive, and it sank deep into her bones.

Her breath hitched, and she grabbed the edge of the bed, her nails digging into the sheets. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to stop feeling like this, like she was drowning in a sea of her own thoughts. The more she tried to make sense of it, the further she seemed to drift away.

Her heart raced. Her hands were shaking.

You can't do this, Amelia. You can't do this again.

The voice wasn't real. It wasn't Derek. It wasn't Ryan. It was her own voice, but it didn't sound like it belonged to her. It was harsh, demanding, cruel. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it out, but it was like the voice was coming from inside her own head, pounding against her skull. She tried to breathe through it, but it was hard to focus.

"Stop it," she whispered, though she didn't even know who she was talking to.

The room shifted again, a burst of light exploding behind her eyelids, like fireworks exploding in her chest. She gasped for air, but it felt like her lungs were closing in. She couldn't catch her breath.

You've already messed everything up.

Amelia shook her head violently, trying to shake the thought away. No, no, no, she repeated over and over, but the words didn't make it better. They only made it worse.

The silence was too loud. The emptiness in her chest ached. Her mind screamed for release. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it felt like hours, like she had been stuck in this haze for a lifetime. Everything was spinning faster, and the edges of her vision were blurring again.

"Amelia," a voice said, but it wasn't the voice she was expecting. She looked up, squinting through the fog of her mind.

It was Ryan. He was standing in her room, the doorway blurred behind him, but his face was clear enough.

"Amelia," he said again, his tone low, almost pleading. "Hey, talk to me."

She stared at him, her mind not entirely sure if this was real or just another illusion. She couldn't tell. She couldn't tell what was real anymore.

"Ryan," she mumbled, but the word felt foreign in her mouth. It wasn't the way it should've sounded. It was thick and slow, like it was coming from someone else.

"You're high," Ryan said quietly, stepping closer to her. He wasn't angry, just concerned, his brow furrowed in that familiar way that made her heart ache. "What the hell, Amelia?"

Amelia tried to say something, to explain, but it felt like the words were stuck somewhere in her chest. The drugs had a hold on her, pulling her further away from reality, making it impossible to connect with anything outside of herself.

"Why are you doing this?" Ryan continued, his voice softer now, but still laced with something else. Hurt. Disappointment. "You don't need this, Mia. You don't."

The words stung. He was right. He was right, but she couldn't stop herself. She couldn't stop the need to escape, to numb everything that felt like it was breaking her apart. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn't come.

Ryan knelt in front of her, his eyes searching hers, trying to reach through the fog. "Amelia, listen to me. You don't have to go through this alone. You don't have to do this."

But the voice inside her head was louder now, drowning out everything else. It screamed, You're worthless. No one cares about you. You can't fix this. You never can.

She gasped, gripping the sides of the bed again, her breath coming in shallow bursts.

"Please..." Ryan's voice was broken now. "Please, Mia. Come back to me. Let me help you."

She blinked rapidly, trying to focus on his face, but it kept distorting, the edges melting in and out of reality. She felt like she was being pulled under, drowning in the chaos of her own mind.

"I can't," she whispered hoarsely. "I can't."

Ryan's hand gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek in a tender gesture that made her heart ache. He wasn't angry. He wasn't frustrated. He was just... there.

"Mia," he said softly, his voice trembling. "Please. Just breathe with me. Please."

But all Amelia could do was stare at him, helpless, as the world around her spun faster and faster.