I step inside behind her as she flips on the light switch, then move past her, my eyes scanning the small living room. The décor is entirely black, the small couch, the floors, the kitchen counters just to the right, yet the white walls provide some brightness, a perfect balance between light and dark.
“Pretty decent, right?”Noir says behind me as she shuts the door.
There’s a slight chill in the air, mingling with a musky scent, but it’s clean and much better than the cage I’ve been in for months.
“It’s late,”she continues, setting the bag down.“Why don’t you take a shower, and I’ll make you a sandwich or something before I leave. I’ll come see you again in a few days, when you’re feeling better. I can only imagine you’re gonna sleep a lot.”
A warmth spreads through my chest at her care, it’s unexpected yet reassuring.
“Thank you,”I say quietly, my voice genuine.“I don’t know what I would have done if you gave up on me…”
The words trail off as I lower my head, feeling vulnerable, my fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of my hoodie.
Noir steps closer, her voice steady.“You’ve been through a lot, Ara. Take care of yourself, like you took care of me. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters.”
She pauses, her next words sending a strange drop in my stomach.
“There’s no one out there who can take you from me now.”
Before I can answer, she steps forward, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead like a mom would her daughter.
“Go on,”she orders, tilting her head toward the hallway.
I lift my eyes to hers one last time before moving past her and head down the short corridor.
Reaching a door on my right, I push it open and hit the light switch. A dim glow spills over the tiny bathroom, casting a soft glow over the black walls.
A toilet. A cabinet with a mirrored door above a sink. A small window and a bathtub. But not just any bathtub. It’s old-fashioned and freestanding on delicate gold legs. The kind you’d expect to find in a gothic, horror novel rather than a trailer like this. Yet above it, there’s still a modern showerhead jutting from the wall.
I exhale slowly, stepping inside and shut the door behind me, sealing it with a final click of the lock. Moving straight for the shower, I lean over the tub and turn the knob. I grip the hem of my oversized black hoodie and haul it over my head, tossing it aside. Then move onto my sweatpants.
Now entirely naked, I stand in front of the mirror, my head down and hesitating before finally forcing myself to face whatever I’ve become.
It’s been so long since I last saw myself, and I’ve aged, as expected, but I’m still young. Although I haven’t really thought about my age for a while. I think I must be at least twenty-three now I guess.
Pale gray dwells beneath my icy blue eyes, years of trauma etched into my skin like shadows that refuse to leave. My cheekbones protrude more than they used to. Hunger has carved away at me, shaping someone I barely recognize. My gaze drifts downward as my long, straight black hair spills over my slashed and scarred breasts.
I look frail. Weak.Fucking weak.And I hate every part of what I see.
My eyes continue to trail over the cigarette and rope burns scarring my arms. But then they stop on the one mark that annoys me the most. Kyro burned it into my upper inner arm, stamping me with something I still don’t understand. But I know one thing, it needs to go.
I force myself to turn around, sweeping my hair over one shoulder before glancing back at my reflection. Scarred rope burns still wrap around each side of my small waist and the memories of how they got there flash through my mind in like a broken film reel stuck on the worst parts.
I don’t bother looking lower. I don’t need to. I know what’s there. The marks on my upper thighs, beneath my ass, they haven’t faded. Time hasn’t erased them, it never will and it’s something I have to learn to live with now.
Lowering my head, I let my hair fall back into place and take a deep inhale before stepping into the tub, pulling the shower curtain around it.
The warm water embraces me instantly, as I reach for the soap. I lower myself inside, letting it cascade over my skin before curling into myself, pulling my knees to my chest and rest my chin against them. My vision blurs as I stare into nothing, lost in the silence as always.
Just breathe. Just exist.
I’ve never truly allowed myself to grieve the parts of me that were stolen. The girl I once was, is long gone. Taken in fragments, chipped away by cruel hands and even crueller intentions.
I search for her sometimes in the quiet spaces between my breaths, but all I ever find are shadows of who she used to be, faint and distant echoes of a voice that no longer belongs to me.
I close my teary eyes, gripping my arms as if I can hold myself together, as if I can stop the pain.
Maybe that girl is dead.