The Beginning (revised/continued with comments)

Another stab to the stomach. Comfort made impossible. My teeth cringe, my hands clench the sheets with gripping fists, and my eyelids close tight, fighting back the tears. Sharp, shooting streams of pain moving from within find their way outward through intervals of groans and whimpers.

Cannon-like violence moves from the battlefield of my intestinal track, signaling my feet to quicken their pace, carrying the war from my mattress and pillows, to a filthy, porceline hole. My throat is stripped, my tongue jerked back, and with a forceful push, there comes temporary relief. My left hand quivers to bring the sound of a flush with the push of a shaky finger. The taste and smell of digested garbage turns my head in disgust. I wait.

My stomach rumbles and my posture slumps. My throat swallows hard. "Not again" I tell myself. The troops within my stomach begin their march once more, bombarding my inner walls with acidic grenades and explosives in an attempt to battle the enemy. My legs and arms ache, and I rock to and fro awaiting my fate on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. My right forearm moves carefully across my forehead, transferring beads of perspiration from my brows to the stench-filled, cotton t-shirt I wear. Another erruption interrupts the silence of an empty house, and I weep.

My weight shifts to the right, as my right knee and my right fist collaborate to crawl forward...then I shift left...then right again. At the pace of a turtle I progress, without a shell on my back to hide as I hear voices enter below me. The light shining in through angled window shades reminds me of my light within. My lips utter a few words to my broken heart, and I'm hopeful these words extend upward. In...out...in....out....the air comes less and less easily. My lungs struggle as repeated stabs fill my abdomen with each breath. Pain abounding.

Familiar voices draw near. Tears pour down my cheeks, filling my gapping mouth. My mucus filled nostrils give in to soft tissue, only to be refilled quickly after being relieved. Whimpering becomes whaling, and groaning becomes screaming. Shadows close in, reaching over me and take me away.....

My right ear attempts to focus on the sound of tires on the road beneath, but my heart is pounding louder. At every pebble I flinch, as if each small bump in the road were a boulder. Slowing...slower...stopped. Doors swing open, my eyes squinting to adjust to the florescent light. My stomach now a black hole, empty and miserable. My quivering hands reach the stable hands of another while the arms of those I love support mine. "Aaaaahhhhooooow!" the inner walls of my throat let out a raw cry, as my rear is lowered. I sit in motion, my head pounding, the world rolling by. My feet off the floor, I have no control....left turn...straight....right.

The nerves of those around me can be felt in morning's dark dawn of uncertainty. In...out...in...out. The scent of vomit carries from my tongue to the nose of another whose voice is near. His voice is as a calm, collected, experienced soloist, drowning out the choir of calamity and excitement. I stammer for words to answer his inquiries, my mind racing. The black hole within me now fills with jabbing knives of force and I want to retreat. My eyes squint, my cheeks wet again, my grinding teeth can't dam tears of anguish. The soloist approaches again, then....slow motion...dizzy...away from the world...nothing.

Deep slumber lifts a new day. Two days prior I ventured two-hundred miles by pedal, and today I cannot walk a single step without the help of another. The army of knives are gone, a black hole sewn shut, but the wounds remain. Wounds heal one step at a time....wounds are only the beginning.