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"I have my highest highs and my lowest lows. And then... I don't remember anything anymore."
It’s one of those timeless days, when everything blurs together; gray, heavy, digging deep inside you. You wonder if there's any point in going on, when every step always leads back to the same emptiness.
That’s how Bob’s day begins. His eyes, still crusted with sleep, try to focus on the room around him.
It’s dark, and for a moment, he's afraid. Afraid he’s back in the box. The smooth, cold walls pressing against his fingertips. The stale air. So tight he couldn’t move. And that pajama- thin as tissue paper - letting everything seep through.
But before the panic can take over, slowly, his eyes adjust. A nightstand appears: on top, a lamp and a dusty book. It had been a gift, but he hadn’t found the strength to read it yet. These days, everything felt like a monumental effort.
His gaze shifts to the wall, follows it to the wardrobe. Then down again. His hands are on something soft: a fleece blanket. Another gift, received after he’d mentioned how cold the house was in the mornings.
It’s so warm and comforting. He doesn’t deserve it. Not after everything that’s happened.
He closes his eyes, and the world falls back into darkness. He just woke up, but he’s already so tired.
Deep down, he knows: he should get up, get dressed, start the day.
He knows this is the hardest moment. That once it’s over, things will get better.
He can already hear his therapist’s voice:
“It’s just a dark moment, Bob. You have to find the strength within yourself and face it.”
Easy for him to say. He’s not the one with a list of mental illnesses as long as a grocery receipt.
It should be simple. One leg, then the other. A small push from the abs… and there you go. He should already be standing.
But his body refuses. His limbs are heavy as lead. No matter how hard he tries, they won't move.
His gaze lands back on the blanket. He’s holding it tight, almost like it’s a shield against the world.
He closes his eyes.
God, he's so tired.
Maybe the day can wait a little longer. He’ll close his eyes for just a moment. Just to gather a bit more energy.
In the distance, the sound of cars speeding down the highway lulls him back into the sweet embrace of sleep.
He wakes up again. Minutes, maybe hours later - it’s hard to tell. He can guess by the light filtering through the blinds.
Someone is gently shaking him.
It’s Yelena.
Of course it’s her. His torch in the darkest of times.
She’s speaking, but her words are silent. Nothing makes sense, these days.
God, he's so tired.
If only he could sink into this bed. Down, down… deeper and deeper, until he disappears into nothingness.
He must’ve dozed off again, because when he opens his eyes, he’s in the living room.
Someone must have moved him - Walker, probably- it wouldn’t be the first time.
He’s lying on the couch. A light blanket covers his legs. In the background, the TV is playing a documentary.
Yelena likes documentaries. She found them relaxing. She’d told him one night, when he got up to go to the bathroom and found her on the couch, TV on, a blanket over her shoulders, eyes lost in the screen.
A sound of footsteps catches his attention: it’s Yelena, moving around him, then crouching in front of him.
She gives him a soft smile and gently places a glass of water against his lips.
He drinks slowly, feeling the cold water slide down his throat, refreshing him, like a thread of clarity piercing through the fog that wraps around him.
Little by little, the world begins to sharpen, as if the mist surrounding him is slowly lifting.
Yelena probably notices. After setting the glass on the coffee table, she slightly raises the volume of the TV and lies down beside him.
She’s a small, warm body, pressing against his.
His lighthouse in the stormy sea.
It’s her way of saying:
“You’re not alone, Bob. I promise we’ll never leave you alone again.”
Suddenly, a loud laugh cuts through the air.
It’s Alexei, laughing like nothing else matters, making the walls shake. On another day, Bob might have laughed with him, let himself be carried away by that contagious joy.
But not today. Today is different. Today is just another step toward the light, still too far away.
The dim light wrapping the room now feels different.
It’s calmer, less oppressive. Things aren’t fixed yet, he’s not healed - maybe he never will be - but the light, even if faint, is there. And that small glimmer of hope is enough to make him believe that, step by step, he’ll make it. He’s no longer alone- never again. He’s found a new family.
And as Yelena stays by his side, the world around him seems to slow down, becoming more bearable. This is not the beginning, not the end, but a new start. It’s the peace that comes after the storm, even though he knows there will be other storms. But it doesn’t matter. This time, he won’t have to face them alone.