Page 80 of Like A Moth To A Flame

As the minutes ticked by, a numbness settled over me, cocooning me in a fragile shield against the outside world. I knew this respite was only temporary, that eventually I would have to face the harsh reality. But for now, I allowed myself this moment of solitude, this brief escape from the chaos and uncertainty that had become my existence. In the confines of the bathtub, with nothing but the sound of water to keep me company, I tried to piece together the fragments of what my life had become. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the memories, and his words. His absence now felt like a weight pressing down on me, suffocating me in its silence.

Why? Why was it bothering me?

Using the heel of my foot, I twisted off the water and let it fall into silence as I sank lower in the water, until only my nose and mouth broke the surface, and my breath came in shallow gasps.

Time seemed to stretch and warp in that small, enclosed space. The world outside faded away, leaving me alone with my thoughtsand the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. I focused on that sound, letting it anchor me in the present and chase away the ripples of the past.

But somehow, some of it still clung to me.

His words, the domination he held over me, the way he chased me, only to pull away the moment he caught me.

Why? Why did he leave?

Was it all just a game to him? A sick, twisted game that he played with my emotions as the prize? For what? To break me? To push me to the brink of insanity and then snatch it away, dangling it in front of my eyes like some demented trophy?

The water in the tub had grown stifling around me, but the chill in my bones refused to dissipate. Somehow, I drifted away, and before I knew it, the world around me had faded to black.

Behind closed lids, I dreamed of faces, of faceless horrors reaching out to grab me. I dreamed of my mom reaching out to hold me and tell me everything was okay. I dreamed of the way she smelled, and the feeling of her arms around me, but when I opened my mouth to speak to her, she faded into blackness.

The darkness gave way to a sudden, sharp realization as my senses kicked into overdrive, dragging me back to consciousness like a slap in the face. I woke up in water that had grown frigid, clinging to my body like the shroud of death, gasping, coughing, and sputtering.

How long had I been there? Minutes? Hours?

The faint grey light filtering in from the small window over the bathtub told me it had been the latter. My skin was wrinkled, goosebumps erupting on my arms. I shivered violently, everymuscle quaking and jolting beneath goosebumped flesh. I clambered out of the bathtub, my joints protesting against the sudden movement after lying still for so long. Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it tightly around myself, trying to ward off the chill that seemed to have settled deep into my bones.

With shaking hands, I rustled in the bag that still lay on the bathroom floor, finding a tampon. I shook so hard that inserting it was nearly impossible, but after several tries, I finally had it in place. With fast steps, I rushed down the hallway and into the bedroom, forcing the door closed harder than I’d meant to, and threw myself into the bed, wrapping myself in the towel and the comforter.

I needed the warmth to chase away the confusion.

I needed a place to hide.

I had that dream again. I hadn’t had it in years, but when I woke up, I had a strange kind of nostalgia writhing around in my head that I didn’t know what to do with.

In the dream, I was in a room by myself, surrounded by hospital equipment. Looking down, I was wearing a tattered, burned hospital gown, and my legs were covered in blood. Looking up, a faceless nurse walked up to me and handed me a baby, bundled in blankets and cooing softly. She had big, beautiful brown eyes and a face full of freckles, just like mine.

Laying in bed now, I could hear the sounds of the birds’ chirping and flittering outside. I stayed where I was, feeling the deep ache in my pelvis and the itch of going to bed with wet hair. It felt late.

What did the dream mean?

I didn’t know.

Carefully, I pushed myself off the bed and landed on the floor on my hands and knees. I feel dazed, almost drunk—or at least the day after a night of drinking. What the fuck was wrong with me?

Forcing myself to my feet, I looked at the wet outline on the bed and sighed. I’d need to change the sheets… the pillowcase…

Maybe I’d burn the entire house down, instead.

Turning from the room, my eyes caught the outline of the closet door and I floated over to it like a specter and peered inside, almost expecting nothing to be there. Maybe there was no camera at all. Maybe he was just fucking with me. Stepping up to the door, I pushed it open with my toe and looked inside. It was littered with bags and boxes, and random stacks of folded clothes that all looked normal.

Except…

Along the second shelf, the clothes had been disturbed, leaving drag marks in the unbroken blanket of dust. Poking my finger beneath the pile, I picked it up, and there was the camera. It was a tiny, white thing, with no lights and no blinking red light. It was small and unassuming.

With a sigh, I dropped the clothes back into place. It didn’t matter. I didn’t care. After everything he’d done to me, who cared if he saw an ass cheek or two?

Or three, even. Who knew at this point?

Padding from the room, I wobbled down the hallway and into the bathroom. I needed a proper shower. Glancing in the mirror on my way past, my ghostly reflection scared me more than the camera ever had. I had huge dark circles, makeup smeared around my eyes, and dripping in lines down my freckled cheeks. My hair had come loose from the braids, matted, tangled, and stuck to one side of my head.

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