Chapter 35 #3
“I don’t think I’d fight it,” I added. That one hit somewhere low in me the second I said it, somewhere buried deep enough that I felt it in my entire body.
“I think I’d just let it happen.” Because fighting requires something.
And I… I didn’t have anything left to use. Behind me, I heard him exhale.
“Go take a shower.” His voice dropped, controlled again, back to that version of him that tried to keep things contained. “Get up. Take a long shower, then sleep.” Like that would fix it. Like water and time could clean something like this out of me.
“... Rowan.” He said, and for the first time since the conversation started, the words sounded final. I closed my eyes for a second. Opened them again. The crack in the wall was still there.
“I’m fine,” I said and it almost sounded convincing. He didn’t respond, but I heard him move. Footsteps faded until the room settled again. Just me and the quiet. But it didn’t feel empty, it felt full. Way too fucking full.
I stayed there long enough for the silence to settle back into my bones, to wrap itself around me again like it had never left.
Then I moved. Slow at first, like my body needed a second to remember how.
The stairs cracked under my weight on the way up, each step dragging a little, like I was pulling something invisible behind me.
The house felt different now. Aware, like it was watching me move through it.
The bathroom light flickered once when I turned it on and I reached for the shower and twisted the handle.
Steam started gathering almost immediately, creeping across the mirror until the whole room turned hazy.
I pulled my shirt over my head slowly, the fabric catching for a second before I dragged it free.
Let it drop somewhere near the door without looking.
Pants and boxers next. Cold air hit my skin for a moment, harsh enough to make me aware of it again, before the heat from the shower swallowed it.
The water hit hard. Straight down over my shoulders, my chest, my back.
Hot enough to sting at first, then settle into something duller and constant.
It ran over me like it was trying to press me down, like it wanted to fold me into itself.
I tilted my head back and closed my eyes.
Let it fall over my face. Down my throat as my lips parted.
Water slipped in, filled my mouth, pushed against the back of it, spilled down again before I could take in too much.
Some of it caught in my nose, uncomfortable for a second, but I didn’t pull away.
I just stayed there, let it happen again. And again.
For a moment, my body loosened enough that I almost forgot how tense I’d been before stepping under the water.
The way it blurred everything. The way it replaced the noise in my head with something simpler, something physical.
My chest rose under the steam, uneven now, reacting to it.
I just stood there and let it take up space.
You’d laugh if you saw me like that, little Ghost.
Because it’s pathetic.
A man standing in a shower, letting himself half-drown just to feel something that isn’t himself.
My hand slid up slowly, dragging through my hair, pushing it back as the water kept falling, heavier now, running down the lines of my body, tracing every edge, every hollow.
It made everything feel more defined somehow.
Like I existed more under it than I did out of it.
Or maybe I just noticed it more. I let my head fall forward again.
Water kept coming, didn’t stop. Just kept going, like it didn’t care if I stayed under it forever.
There was something honest about that. I stayed until the heat started to fade.
Until my skin felt too sensitive, almost numb at the same time.
Then I turned it off. The silence after hit harder than I expected. Louder, always louder.
I grabbed a towel without really looking, dragged it over my face, my hair, my shoulders just enough to stop the water from dripping everywhere. The mirror was fogged completely now, no reflection.
Good.
I left it like that and wrapped the towel around my waist as I walked back through the hallway.
The floor colder now, grounding in a way nothing else had been.
The bedroom was the same as I’d left it.
I sat on the edge of the bed for a second, then let myself fall back, staring up at the ceiling.
The silence filled everything once again.
Wrapped itself around my ribs, settled in my throat, sat behind my eyes.
I turned my head, staring at nothing again.
And for a moment, I thought about it. Not in detail, just the idea of it. The simplicity of it.
Ending.
My chest rose slowly. Maybe not today, I thought.
The words barely made sense, even in my own head and my lips felt dry again already.
“But soon.” I muttered to myself. It filled the quiet of the room, didn’t fade, just sat there.
Waiting. Because there was something else first, something unfinished, something I couldn’t walk away from yet. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly.
“... I have something I need to do first.” And that was the only thing other than death that felt certain.