You are strong, Amelia.
Caiden’s words appeared in my mind, and I desperately wanted to believe them.
Somewhere in the agonizing passing of time, I fell asleep, lying there on a patch of grass, succumbing to the abyss of my mind, exhaustion claiming me entirely.
When I awoke, it was dark; moonlight filtered through the trees.
Still, I couldn’t move, weighed down by misery and weariness. The grief was an anchor tying me to the ground, paralyzing my limbs, overtaking my soul.
Suddenly, a light appeared, and I heard voices.
“I think I see something! It might be her.” A voice called out. The light came closer.
Still, I couldn’t move.
The light came so close until it shone over my body, which was in a fetal position on the ground.
“Shane! I found her.” The voice, belonging to Caiden, I realized, was so close as he bent down towards me.
Two arms made their way around my body. After a moment, I was in the air, huddled against his chest.
“I’ve got you, Amelia. You’ll be okay.” His voice drifted like a dream as he secured his arms. One, underneath my legs, and the other around my shoulders and back.
“Is she alright?” Shane asked, his words coated with worry.
“She doesn’t look hurt. I’m just glad we found her. I don’t know why the hell she would be out here, alone, in the dark.” Frustration mingled with concern.
Yet I didn’t speak. Grief had invaded my body, and it took my voice–
Everything.
I became immobile, a prisoner of grief.
“Can you blame her? Her mother just died. She’s probably overwhelmed and lost track of time.” Shane tried to soothe Caiden’s worry.
“Yeah. I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on her. I was pretty fucking worried, though.” His arms held me tighter, and I fell into his presence, my eyes drifting shut again.
Time passed in a dissociative blur, and soon I was being laid into bed, the mattress a comfort on my sore back.
A hand brushed against my forehead, making a path to my cheek, as I laid there with my eyes closed.
The bed squeaked as a body laid next to mine. Arms snaked their way around me, and I was pressed into a chest. Lips landed on my forehead, a light, feathered kiss.
I fell asleep in a cocoon of warmth, enveloped in a pair of muscular arms.
I awoke to absence, a cold familiar as my own blood. The warmth from the arms that had held me was gone, and the bed was empty.
The hollowness gnawed at my ribs, a hunger with no hope of satiety. I touched the pillow where his head should have been, found only a faint depression, a trace of heat growing stale against the cotton.
He was gone.
I reached across the bed, hand trailing over the chill, as if I could conjure his warmth from the fibers.
But there was nothing. Not even the faintest impression, not a trace of the rough hands or the feverish limbs that had pulled me from the dark.
I pressed my face into the pillow, inhaling the raw scent, but it was already fading. My chest constricted, a single, excruciating ache radiating through my body.
Had he ever really been there at all? Or was it another trick of my mind?
