Page 163 of Eternal
Fuck I hate thinking.
The water hits my skin immediately in the bathroom.
Burning.Steam. Blood falls down my legs, my hands, and I watch it disappear down the drain.
But it doesn’t feel like it’s leaving, it’s still on me, under my skin, in my heart, tangled in the mess that my head is.
My mother, those girls, the way men like them break and use and discard, the way they brokeme.
I press my fingers against my thighs, against the scars hidden beneath so much ink.
The iris on my arm, the past,me.
I touch them one by one with the tip of my fingers, I touch them like they aren’t mine. Maybe they aren’t. Maybe they belong to the girl they turned me into, or they belong to the people who carved them on me.
I don’t know how long I stand there, letting the water burn my skin, waiting for something to wash away. I almost forget that Damir is here, waiting.
I don’t even know what I’m waiting for, but I know it never does wash away.
I scrub, and scrub my skin, washing the long, sticky strands of hair matted with blood and sweat until they’re clean again.Then, I turn off the shower, wrap a towel around me, and move on instinct.
I thought killing them all without distinction would stop the voices, stop the burning rage inside me. But it only makes it worse. More questions, more things to uncover, more people to fucking annihilate.
I have to keep going, I have to.
The cycle continues, dressing simply in sweats and a sweatshirt, then braiding my hair without thinking.
It’s her habit, her touch. Ridiculous habit, but it’s the only thing left of her. The only thing I still do because this stupid part of me doesn't want to forget how she was before being broken.
My reflection laughs at me, or maybe she only pities me. For so long, I’ve looked at her like she was weak, broken, stupid, like she was nothing. She never felt okay, she never felt good enough to appreciate her own heart. But when I look down, I see the bottle of pills.
It’s tucked away, half-hidden, but it’s there, it’s still there, and I want it, I really do. I wish I could take some.
I don’t reach for it, I don’t even touch it. It’s still there, but that’s not who I am anymore, is it?
With a deep breath, I close the bathroom door behind me. When I step out, he’s there, Damir’s standing by the window in my living room, looking out, his back in front of me. His shoulders are stiff, but he’s not looking for anything, he’s right there for me.
He doesn’t even turn when I enter, but he speaks slowly. “Come here.”
I do, without thinking, I step closer, closer than I’ve been to anyone in years. He doesn’t make a move, doesn’t touch me, he stands beside me, our bodies near but still far. I stare out at the city, the stars shining like they’ve been here all the time, as if they are still witnessing my fall.
“How many people did you kill tonight?” He asks without turning his head toward me.
He’s not judging, he’s curious, maybe worried, but I don’t answer, I keep my eyes on the stars, pointing them slowly with my finger, inviting him to look at them. “They’re so bright tonight.”
They are, he wouldn’t understand.
Now I can see them every day, I can see them again.
He moves and I feel his body closer now, I feel his touch, the way he caresses my hair, fingers brushing over it. It’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, it’s strange, it shouldn’t be.
I’ve always been strong, always stood alone, I always had to carry it all because when I needed someone, they made me regret my weaknesses. It’s normal, right? To feel this tired, this empty, thisdesperate? It’s simply how life is.
So why is his presence so strange to my heart?
Why the hell am I trusting him, but still holding back? It doesn’t make sense, I want to let him in, but I’m scared shitless. It’s like standing on the edge of something good but also looking straight into a fucking abyss.
But nonetheless he’s here, and I don’t know why it matters, but it does.
