Chapter 52
Aoi
Time doesn’t seem to flow anymore.
I lost all my appetite.
It doesn’t matter how many times Amira and Elena try to make me eat, I just can’t swallow anything. I think Sally came by earlier today, but I don’t remember much.
My mouth is dry, and my limbs are too heavy to lift as I slowly shift onto my back and stare at the ceiling. It’s dark in the bedroom, so dark and cold.
I’m not alone, but I’m so lonely.
Surrounded but barren inside.
The rate of my heart picks up the pace as a tear slides down the side of my eye and onto the pillow, but I can’t be bothered to wipe it and instead try to force myself up.
Why is my body so heavy?
How can a hollow heart weigh so much?
I glance at the plate on the nightstand, and the sandwich Amira made me for lunch. I hate that she’s trying so hard to help but that I’m incapable of accepting it. She should just give up and stop wasting her time on me. I’m hopeless.
It’s been hours since I last spoke, my throat feels raw and my mouth like sand. I should drink something, but I can’t be bothered to get up and fetch a glass of water.
Do it, the voice in the back of my head echoes.
I don’t know.
What do you have to lose? Just do it. You’ll feel better.
It’s true. It always made me feel better despite the guilt.
Heaving a sigh, I push the covers off me and climb out of the bed. The appartement is eerily quiet as I slip into the bathroom and turn on the lights. The sudden brightness makes me wince and forces me to shut my eyes. I blink to adjust them to the luminosity.
Skipping my reflection in the mirror, I head for the cabinet and grab the box of razor blades. The thin and sharp pieces of metal stare back at me, whispering cruel words as I pick one and shove the box back into the cabinet.
I expected Amira to have hidden these, but I guess she has too much faith in me. What a mistake.
Go on. Do it.
I plop down against the cold wall and slide my left sleeve up. The remains of my last punishment shoots through my forearm in a straight white line. A long line like a silver wire.
For a minute, dipped in deafening silence, I just watch it, caressing the soft scarred skin.
What’s wrong? Why are you hesitating?
I don’t know.
Then do it. You’ll feel better, it taunts.
I position the sharp side of the blade onto my wrist and this time I draw a horizontal cut, letting out a sob as the skin breaks. My hand trembles and I almost drop the blade.
Better, right?
No. Yes.
It hurts, stings, and burns, but it feels right. I deserve this more than I ever deserved kindness.
My body moves on its own and sinks the sharp metal into my flesh again, right next to the first cut. I have to bite my bottom lip to keep myself from crying out loud.
I don’t want the girls to see me like this.
Watching the blood flow and trickling down my wrist and onto my hand, I lean my head against the wall and sigh. The fog clouding my mind dissipates as drop after drop lands on the white polished floor.
I don’t know what time it is. Is it the evening already? I think I heard some noise behind the door. I’m not even sure if anyone’s home and I doubt it would change much at this point.
I don’t know anything anymore.
I frown when a chill overtakes my body and my vision blurs momentarily. That’s usually the sign to bandage the wound. I reach for the med kit in one of the shelves and disinfect the cuts before patching them up and wiping the floor with toilet paper and water.
***
Blinking slowly, I open my eyes and find someone near the doorframe of my room. I catch the time on the digital clock. 08:37 p.m. Rum spice and musk tickle my nostrils as he sits down on the floor next to the bed.
My eyes follow each movement as he leans back against the wooden nightstand and looks at me, softly and fragmented. “Amira called me.”
I don’t reply and blankly stare at his bloodshot honey eyes. Has he been crying? Whatever, I don’t care. It’s all his fault.
But is it, though?
No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have trusted him in the first place. It’s also my fault, but it’s easier to blame him so shut the fuck up, brain. I’m trying to cope.
“She still hates me but she’s more worried about you,” he explains. “Said you weren’t looking too good.”
My gaze doesn’t leave his as I pull the blanket up to my nose and remain quiet.
I don’t want to talk to him, nor do I want to see him. His mere face makes me want to stab myself to forget the flutter in my heart when he looks at me like I’m his entire world.
But if I really mattered as much as he tries to make it seem, then why did he lie to me? Why did he have to betray me?
Visha leans his chin on the edge of the bed, only a few inches from my face. I frown, eyes starting to sting and burn from the urge to sob.
“Your fault,” I whisper. “Hate you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me but allow me to stay here.”
I hate how much his presence soothes my bruised heart despite the voice in my head screaming at me to shut him out of my life before it’s too late. Subconsciously, I slide my hand out from under the blanket and graze his jaw.
Visha shudders at the light touch and hesitantly melts into it, seeking my caress. His eyes flutter closed as his features mix into sorrow and comfort.
I love him, don’t I?
I love him more than I hate myself.
But I can’t forgive him. I can’t forgive myself.
My name comes out in a whisper from his parted lips, and I’m yanked out of the trance. I pull my hand away from his jaw, but he grabs it and interlinks our fingers.
“Please, just…just let me hold your hand at least,” he pleads, his voice so broken that I feel myself sink into an abyss of regret and guilt. “Please…”
I don’t understand why but I nod and shut my eyes. My body relaxes when he starts tracing circles on the back of my hand.
“I want you gone when I wake up.”
He stiffens momentarily but slowly nods. “Okay.”
I’ll never see him again after today anyway. I want to feel him one last time before I say goodbye once and for all.
“Come here and hold me,” I mutter, refusing to look at him.
The bed dips under his weight as he climbs next to me and lays down, wrapping his arms around my trembling body. His breath tickles my nape when he inhales my scent, and I shudder, melting into his familiar, entrancing, and traitorous embrace.
I missed him. Fuck, I missed him so much. I fucking hate him for what he did. I hate him so much, but what I hate the most is that no matter what, I still love him.
Pulling the blanket higher over my nose, I bury my face in the fabric and sob, relishing the sensation of his strong and firm body holding me and shielding me from the truth.
That when I open my eyes again, it’ll be over.
***
He left.
I know I asked him to, but a part of me wishes he had disobeyed and stayed by my side longer.
I shove the blanket off me and head toward the desk. As I sit down, I open my computer and skim through my manuscript one last time, making sure I edited everything and proofread it. Now that the book is finished, I can finally rest in peace.
The world will know my name, my story, and I’ll be free.
I send a copy of the document in an e-mail to Mr. Williams, Dixon and my agent. My hands reach for a sheet of paper and a pen, letting my fingers ink the words down that I have wanted to utter out loud for years now but never could.
The night has fallen, and the apartment is eerily quiet again since the girls are sleeping in the room next door. I leave the letter on the desk. I get changed into a sweater and a pair of jeans then I grab my coat and head out.