Tidak Mudah Menjadi Aku Novels & Stories

We sat on the sofa still talking freely; everything just seemed so easy with her. I didn’t feel the need to put on an act or try to be something that I wasn’t, she seemed to accept everything at face value and actually be interested in me, instead of what I looked like. I loved that she was intrigued by me as a person; it didn't usually work that way with girls.

But why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I shift into a simple bat? Perhaps it was because bats were not simple creatures, maybe they were more complicated than I was giving them credit for, it was hard to shift into another being and even harder to control yourself once you became that creature. I knew that it would be a difficult task, but I never imagined it to be this bad, I had hoped to be better, to manage more than I had done.

I wish I were a simple girl living in a simple town with a simple job and a simple man. Simplicity. A four-syllable word that I aspire to live by, but with each passing day, it becomes less and less possible for me to do so. It's as if I can feel it on the tips of my fingers, but I cannot seem to grasp or hold on to it long enough to claim it.

Tomorrow is gonna be very difficult for all of us. I just went to bed again.

I was young and pregnant, I probably didn't look like a great prospect at the time. But then I did go on to become a good prospect so that's something, right? Fuck, I don't know... I haven't got a clue. I'm so confused about everything. I don't want to have to start again; that would really crush me. Somehow, I'm going to have to find a way to make myself irreplaceable. I don't have the strength to fight for my livelihood, but I'm going to find it deep within me. I have to find the words and power.

And I knew… This wasn’t going to get easier. Not now. Not ever.

The answer came fast. INK111: I can't undo it. That's the worst part. I can try to fix it, but I can't undo it. Something inside of me softened. Then, I sent another reply. INK111: Then fix it. That's all anyone can do. “NR_27: You make it sound easy. His reply was short. I exhaled out slowly. INK111: It's not actually easy. It just starts with wanting to be better. The typing bubble disappeared and appeared again.

"That's not the actions of a coward. Get over yourself." It sounds so easy. But how?

The slap on my face felt like a faint ghost compared to the deep, painful scrapes on both knees. I sat on the edge of the oversized tub, pulling out the first aid kit that was permanently stashed beneath the sink. I cleaned the wounds ruthlessly, pouring antiseptic over the raw skin. I didn't wince. Pain was information. Pain was proof that I was still solid, still real, despite their best efforts to turn me into glass. As I wrapped the bandages, the cold certainty of Eddie’s words—"I am a sculptor now"—came back to me. He wouldn't just keep me locked up; he intended to mold me, chip away at my rebellion until I was in a shape that pleased him.