Page 152 of Black Light: Cured

open wound, a missing piece, a jagged edge. A mournful cry rips from my throat as I sink to my knees

and lie down next to the toilet. It’s as if we never existed. Like he could leave my life as if I meant

nothing at all.

TUESDAY COMES FAR EARLIER THAN I WANT IT TO, AND AS I DRAG MYSELF FROM THE BED TO THE

shower, I try to forget just how many times we made love under the hot spray. Thankfully, there seems

to be no more tears left in me. Those all dried up by yesterday.

As much as I want the support of my fellow kinksters, the other part of me feels like it’s far too

soon. I still want to lay in bed and lick my wounds, but my clients need me. I have to put aside this

sorrow for them. Honestly, it’s the one thing that will be able to take my mind off the aching

nothingness that pervades my body. However, I might just come straight home instead of staying for

the class.

Since being with Aiden, I haven’t had to worry about calling for a car. He always made sure to

pick me up and take me back home. It feels so odd to open the app back up and put in my information,

but then, it took me even longer to get used to him taking care of me.

There are no missed calls or texts. Nothing to indicate that he’s even thought about me. Perhaps

he’s deleted my number out of his phone.

The desire to text him, to beg him to come back to me hits hard, but I resist. To my knowledge, I

did nothing wrong. True, there were things we didn’t agree on, but he walked out of this relationship,

not me.

Perhaps after my shift, I’ll just get drunk and celebrate my new-found freedom, something to show

Aiden I don’t need him anyhow. It will be interesting to see if he still has his special whisky at the

club. If so, I’m going to guzzle that bitch, watered down and all.

Somehow the idea of him taking all his belongings and yet leaving his prized whiskey hurts even

more. As if something that expensive didn’t matter to him nearly as much as getting away from me.

Turning, I look at the scattered pieces of his letter, and my chest squeezes. Just like that. Worthless

paper scattered on the wind.

Anger burns in my gut as I storm over to the closet to grab my scrubs. How dare he toss me away

like I meant nothing? I pull my clothes on and shove my feet into my shoes before heading out the

door, slamming it on the way.

Standing out by the curb, I grip my fingers into fists, cursing his name but also wanting to hide