I want to pull him so close that all sense loses shape, our mistakes a bony battlefield to build our castle upon. One that’s not pretty or extravagant, but deep and dark and a little bit broken.
Too late.
Another crunchy bite. Another bitter swallow.
Tugging his blankets over my head, I tuck into a tighter ball, my laden lids drifting shut as my mind dunks into that inky pool of sleep, consumed by a chilly embrace that feels like home.
I’m without anguish, sorrow, regret. I’m without the shades of right and wrong and the gray smudge in between.
Without the warm dawn of hope or the cold drop of fear.
I’m without fingers to tangle with truths that no longer matter. Without hands that hold and caress and hurt.
Without the substance left to snap.
I’m without breath to fill lungs that no longer exist. Without tight skin to keep me contained.
Without blood to drip. To spill or drain or splat or stain.
To gift.
I’m without …
Him.
Weight no longer pins me down, roots pulling from soil that falls away as I tumble with dewdrop stars floating on a sea of black ink. I dart through an ebony forest that seems to stretch for eternity, racing small globes of light that whiz between trunks.
The trees bear no leaves, no life, but I can feel their violent pulse through whatever’s left of me as I zoom past a place I might recognize. A castle that’s black like the gloomy trees, the sky, the soil, its walls choppy in places—as though unfinished.
I want to go there, but I’m at the mercy of the pull.
The terrain slopes, and then I’m plummeting toward a glittering iris that pours into a fathomless pupil.
I slow.
The eye looks at me. Assesses me.
A layered voice whispers in slithering tones, reeling me toward the hungry darkness. Two echoing words caw like a krah through the midnight murk and speak my hollow, condemning truth …
* * *
Burning hands grip me by the shoulders and shake, shake,shake—wrenching me away from that seeing end. I reach, fingers stretching, pleading for it to swallow me …
Dissolveme.
For it to scatter me into a trillion insignificant pieces.
I’m shoved inside a body that’s icy and hostile. That feels too much all at once, abrading my hollow heart.
“Orlaith …fuck—”
A soft voice. Concerned.
“Wake up—”
Angry.
“—what have you done?”
