Page 26 of Hollowed

I was afraid of what I’d become without it.

I opened my eyes slowly.

The chapel was still dim. Still half-shrouded in shadow and memory. The fire had burned low. The wax from the candle had run down onto the stone in thick, hardened trails. My limbs were heavy beneath the blanket, but I turned anyway.

He lay beside me.

Fully clothed.

Still.

Eyes closed.

Not asleep. He didn’t sleep. I didn’t believe he ever had.

But he was breathing. Barely.

As if to remind me that he was real.

And I wanted that reminder closer.

I shifted beneath the blanket.

The cloth pulled at the raw places between my legs. It made me hiss, but I didn’t stop. I rolled onto my side, closer to him. Close enough to feel the heat that radiated from his body.

He still didn’t move.

I reached for his wrist. Not to wake him.

To anchor myself.

My fingers barely brushed his skin.

He opened his eyes.

Void. Watchful. Awake.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t ask.

He just looked at me.

And I said the only thing I could:

“Please.”

His jaw tightened.

Not with rejection. With restraint.

I curled my fingers around his wrist.

“Please don’t leave me alone with this,” I said.

He turned fully then. His hand covered mine. Pressed it flat to his chest.

And for the first time, I felt his heart beat like it meant something.

It was steady.

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