Maybe she died the night I did.
Maybe this, this hollow, unfeeling fucking existence, is all that remains of me now. A rebirth, not into something stronger, but into something numb. Still breathing. Still moving. Butvery much dead on the inside.
But you’re not failing now, Ara.
Get up. Get better. And fuck shit up.
I repeat the words like a fucking chant in my soul, forcing them to drown out the trauma-laced voices whispering that I’m pathetic. That I’m nothing.
But not anymore. I owe it to myself to not become stronger.
I wipe my eyes with my palms, then reach for the soap beside me. Once washing and shaving is done, I stand gently, turning off the shower, razor still in hand.
Before stepping out, I reach for a black towel and wrap it tightly around me as I head for the cabinet, hoping to find something that will help get this shit off my skin. But as soon as I pull the door open, the mirror catches something beside me, a flicker of movement at the window. Too quick to catch.
My breath gets caught in my throat as my eyes dart toward it, but all I see it emptiness. Just a black void with heavy raindrops patting against the glass.
I can’t be losing my damn mind now, surely.
My heart pounds against my ribs, a natural reaction, but I force a deep inhale, steadying myself, then refocus on the cabinet in front of me.
“Thank fuck,”I mutter under my breath, spotting a med kit.
I pull it down and open the box, starting to prepare everything, the first step toward something right. With a quick snap, I crack open the little black razor, the casing splitting apart until the thin silver blade drops into the sink with a dullclink.
I’ve already lost chunks of myself, what’s one more?
After cleaning the area around the mark on my inner arm, I poise the razor’s blade above it. My hand trembles violently, but before anymore hesitation can creep in, I press the blade into my skin.
A sharp hiss escapes through my clenched teeth as I sink it as deep as I can, blood rising instantly and trickling down.
The pain is electric, white-hot, but exhilarating as I drag the blade, slicing through flesh, carving out the mark that has no place on me.
My eyes clamp shut as the pain sears through my body, tracing a perfect circle until the agony becomes unbearable, and the blade slips from my fingers, clattering in the sink.
My breaths come out ragged with my head lowered, watching crimson pool at my feet, bright red veins running down my arm, dripping from my fingertips.
Lifting my gaze to wound, I see the fatty flesh still clings, barely attached. With a sharp inhale, fuelled by a reckless surge of adrenaline, I grab the remaining flesh with shaking fingers, and tear it straight off.
A scream rips from my throat, my head thrown back as agony explodes through me.
“Fuck!” I bite out, eyes squeezed shut.
I toss the torn flesh into the sink before gripping the edges, trying to compose myself. After a moment, I start stitching the wound, each pull of the thread sending fresh waves of discomfort through my arm. Once the last stitch is in place, I clean the area and wrap a bandage tightly around it.
I exhale slowly, my body still trembling as I move to clean up the mess. Blood streaks across the sink, the floor but I wipe it all away until there’s nothing left.
After brushing my teeth, I finally lift the piece of flesh, the mark that once stained my body without permission and without hesitation, I toss it into the toilet and flush.
I watch as the whirlpool swallows it whole, dragging it down, removing it from my existence. And once I’m satisfied, I turn around, step out of the bathroom and head toward the kitchen.
Chapter Five
Wrath
I stand outside one of her living room windows, peeking around the frame with one red eye, my breath shallow. The rainy night wraps around me, veiling me in darkness, but all I see isher as she steps inside the kitchen, wrapped in nothing but a towel, damp strands of black hair clinging to her back.Dripping. Bare. Vulnerable. Beautiful.
My fingers twitch, curling into fists so tight my nails bite into my palms. My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching it, grinding my teeth, fighting the sadistic, killer instinct that’s threatening to consume me.