Chapter 16
Dear B,
Dr. Martin said I should try to do one thing a day that I used to enjoy doing. Reading. Listen to music. Sit outside. Watch a movie. Like doing things I used to do will bring me back to who I used to be. That version of me is gone, B. He's with you.
It's been six months since you left me. Six whole fucking months without you.
I don't think I'll ever be able to look at him.
The tears don't always come anymore when he finds his way back to my bed every night.
Some nights, he just tucks his face in the crook of my neck, and I close my eyes and listen to him breathe.
He breathes like he hasn't been able to since the night before, and something inside my chest eases just enough to feel it.
His fingers don't claw at my skin, but his hand snakes under my shirt to feel my skin against his palm.
Like he's a puppeteer, urging my insides to keep functioning.
Making my lungs fill and my heart beat. Like he can hold all my suffering in his hand against me.
Some nights, it feels like he can. For just a few minutes.
And I'm so fucking selfish because I let him.
I let him take it with his hand against my stomach so I can feel something else for just a second. Like cool moonlight on my skin.
He shudders in relief every time I shudder with relief.
Like he's relieved that I'm giving him my pain to hold in the darkness of my room.
His kiss on my neck was supposed to be comforting.
It was meant to soothe the fever in my veins.
But I'm selfish. Every night, I crave longer minutes of freedom from the suffering.
I just want it to stop long enough for the wounds to clot in my bleeding heart.
So I don't feel the internal carnage for a little while.
So I can bask in his moonlight for long enough to forget to miss the sun.
So this night, when I shudder against his soft kiss of comfort, I lean my head back, opening my neck for more.
Silently urging him to just…please. To make it go away.
He doesn't. He burrows deeper into me, hugging me so tightly, I think his arms are the only thing capable of keeping me together. But if he's holding me together, who's keeping him from falling apart?