Backstuck...
“I caved.” It was a simple statement. Calm. Quiet. A single phrase uttered in a void of black. She couldn’t call it suffocating, as that would imply a stifling, clingy feeling. Her current hell was hollow and endless, stretching out in all directions.
“Alright.” She called out, her voice firmer this time, “I get it! I caved. Can we stop now?”
She felt the demon look inward. The stark white outline of its eyes and smug little smirk glowering over her. “Of course you did…” It purred, a velvet smooth drop in the emptiness.
“Oh shut the fuck up.” She rolled her eyes, pushing herself to her feet. “It wasn’t destined to happen, you know. You’ve been rearing your ugly-ass head and pushing me around all week. I’ve not been trying to fight back. But that doesn’t mean you’re in control, or even that I’m out of control. It just needs work, alright?”
She could feel it draw itself inward, sucking away from the walls of the vessel and coming to coil around her, its stripped body and curled horns slipping in and out of her vision. It didn’t speak, it simply listened, keeping itself wrapped around her.
She paid it no mind, instead closing her eyes and taking a steady breath. She opened them again, uncertain of where she found herself.
It was easy to say that her body was there. That she was in control. But that would be a lie.
“Jesus christ, plurality is such bull fuckery sometimes.” She muttered, letting herself flop down in the mindspace. It was different here, than the inky void she’d been in before, at least. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that, Gregory?” The beast lay dormant. Silent and still. Some days, it felt alive. It felt malicious, and cruel. Other days, like today, it was so subtle. Seemingly unreal. Like it was all just her, really.
She’d let her guard down for a minute. Maybe two. Or, okay, more realistically, a few days at a time. One little justification after the next.
“The hubby needs this.”
“I’ve worked hard today.”
“I’ve not been high in awhile. It’s okay.”
It’d snowballed, stumbling and rolling, all compiling until she reached today. She’d been alone for hours, minding her own business. Or perhaps, allowing Gregory to attend to his. Right off the bat, it had been planned. Underhandedly, yet planned nonetheless. She’d slowly been breaking down her defenses for the day.
She’d not bothered with a proper walk. She’d let herself get snacks. She’d planned sweets. Passed on journaling. Overexerted herself with friends. Not to mention finally cracked and had an edible. Each step taking her closer to this outcome. It wasn’t an inevitability. It was stupidity. It was negligence.
She flopped down, glowering up at the ceiling of her current confines. This was bullshit. At least she could admire the steps she’d taken. There had been that inclination…that steely, unending support beam. Something she’d rarely felt in herself.
As she’d slipped, as Gregory took hold, she’d fought back. Each decision, she’d stalled. Each push for a further fall, she’d stood her ground.
Order. Order. Order.
Eat. Eat. Eat.
He’d tried needling and pushing, bulldozing his way towards wasting money, towards gorging themselves on more than they could stomach. But she’d hesitated. Kept watching the time. Imagining the feeling of sickness, of the way her stomach would churn.
Order. Order. Order.
Eat. Eat. Eat.
She’d push through the muck, push through Rose’s chatter, fighting back against the muscle memory falling into place as her companion continued on cheerily, her own silent battle waging beneath the noise. Her body would move, grabbing a snack and bringing it to her desk. Moments later, she would push herself up, frustratedly porting it back, paying no mind to the conversations covering her every movement.
As the chatter died down, and silence found its way back, she could finally think. Finally breathe. The greater functions of the body, the grander scheme, they were all out of reach, but she had found her footing. She sat there, tucked away in the back, rubbing her temples and imagining gritting her teeth.
She should be angry. She should be raging. Or disappointed. Or losing her mind. But she wasn’t. It had happened. Gregory had come forth. He’d found a crack in their defenses, and he’d taken advantage of it, but she was back now. There was no point of no return. No moment she couldn’t come back from.
She sat up, resting her chin on her knees, sighing softly. She was alone here, despite feeling the eyes of those around her. A self-imposed solitude, she supposed. Or perhaps they refused to come forward out of respect for the emotions she needed to process.
Was this a stone pillar lifting her out of reach, out of sight, out of mind?
Or was this a private observation room, giving her time to breathe and gather herself?
Perhaps both.
She sat for a while, letting her thoughts churn. It was an odd, sound proof room. Her voice would reach out, hitting the walls and dissipating into nothing. It was a new sensation. One familiar, yet entirely on a level above any she had experienced before. She felt at peace with it, in a sense. Not necessarily resignation, but…acceptance. There was an underlying calm that knew it would pass, that things would return to as they should be and all would be okay, but she was cut off from the front.
Backstuck. She supposed that was the best term for it. If being front stuck was the unbreakable presence of another in the head, this was a void. A blackness. Cutting her off from the front, like a pane of glass she just couldn’t go past. The body reacted. It moved, it carried on, it did exactly as she asked, but she was wrapped in cellophane, holding her back from where she should be.
“I know why you’re doing this.” She told herself, hoping to appeal to whatever part of her was so defensive. Drawing her down so deep. “We’re going to be okay. You don’t have to bubble yourself. You can breathe, you can experience your body without caving again. You won’t instantly break, just by going back to your body. You can take a deep breath, take off your headset, and go outside. Take the dog out. Go on a walk. You’ll be okay. Just let yourself down.”
She took another slow breath, picturing the pedestal beneath her, letting herself scoot over to the edge. She wouldn’t fall. She knew that. This was her world. Or close enough. It wasn’t quite the mindscape, but it was her space, created unintentionally to keep her safe. Even in this false land the heart pounding fear of plummeting below was easy to succumb to, but she would be okay. She just had to believe she would float.
Closing her eyes and taking a moment to brace herself, she focused on not the fear of the fall, but the will to float instead. She’d been here before, done this very action, albeit in dreams. She knew if she took that step, it would be just fine, so she calmed herself and pushed off the edge, letting herself gently drift down, ignoring the fear that tried to bubble up as no ground rose beneath her. It was fine. It would always be fine. That’s all that mattered.