Page 88 of Hollowed

Someonelost.

I pulled the shirt over my head.

Let it fall to the floor.

I stood naked in the middle of the room, waiting to feel something.

I pressed my fingers to my breasts.

To the inside of my wrists.

To the place between my thighs.

Nothing.

No shiver.

No ache.

No heat.

And that scared me more than anything.

Because it meant I was already forgetting what it felt like to be his.

I bathed in the basin. The water was scented with lavender and rosemary.

It made me want to cry.

Because he had never used perfume.

Only silence.

Only fire.

Only the cloth he wrung with purpose.

And it had been enough.

I dressed again. Slowly.

Every stitch of fabric a betrayal.

The clothes were too soft.

Nothing clung. Nothing scratched.

Nothing reminded me of the weight I used to carry.

I walked outside.

Let my feet touch earth.

It didn’t hurt.

And I hated that.

Because pain was proof.

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