Page 196 of Eternal
I turn, my breath coming in sharp gasps, my legs feel weak, but I make it to the bathroom. The water’s on before I even think about it, scalding hot, steam fills the room, suffocating me, but I don’t care.
I step in and the burn is instant, searing against my raw skin. It should hurt, and itdoeshurt. But it’s nothing compared to what I deserve.
I scrub hard,harder.
Blood circles the drain, red spirals against white porcelain.Hisblood.Myblood. The past. The betrayal. The lie. But it doesn’t leave, it never leaves. It’s under my nails, in my hair,inside me, inside me, inside me?—
I drop to my knees, my forehead pressing against the wet tile, my body convulses, and I realize I’m sobbing. I don’t even remember the last time I cried.
I want to scream again, but my throat is raw.
I want to tear myself apart, but there’s nothing left to ruin.
I want… Iwantedto believe him.
That’s the worst part, not the lie, not the betrayal, not even the fact that I should have known better. It’s the fact that I wanted it to be real, that I let myself hope.
Stupid girl.
My fingers dig into my scalp as I rock back and forth, the water still beating down on me. My mind is a mess of shattered glass, broken bones, every fucking nightmare I’ve survived crashing down on me at once.
Eventually, the sobs quiet, and the shaking stops.
I lift my head, look at my hands, they’re steady now.
I exhale, dragging myself up, shutting off the water. Stepping back into the wreckage of my apartment.
This is what happens when I let my guard down. This is what happens when I trust, this is what happens when someone tries to use me, lies to get something from me. It’s never kind, nothing is in this world, it all comes with a promise, with a dream or a hope.
57
AZRA
“Between The Bars” by Elliott Smith
Past
Istood on my tiptoes slowly. I know mom was too tired to make dinner tonight, but it’s okay. I reached the top shelf and grabbed the cereal box, then milk. I shook it quietly, pouring the last few loops into my flowery bowl. The milk smelled okay, so it should be good.
The kitchen tiles are really cold. Mom was in the living room, she stayed there a lot lately. The blue lamp was on and the TV was on too but it was muted. She just sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, Eren’s blanket draped over her shoulders. She wasn’t watching the screen, just smoking.
I walked in slowly, bowl in my hands, maybe I’ll make her smile today.
Drink up baby… stay up all night…
The music played from the old radio mom kept near the window. She used to sing too loud, and badly. We used to laughabout it, but not lately, she’s been quiet and sad, just like the song.
“You didn’t eat again, Mama.”
She blinked, then rubbed at her face. Her mascara was all smudged and her eyes were red…. Maybe she was sad because Alexei took Eren away.
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“Are you working tomorrow?”
“No… not tomorrow,” she said, and her voice cracked as she reached for a half-empty glass on the floor, something amber this time, not transparent.
She didn't drink this much before, she didn't forget to pick me up from school, or sleep until the evening, or cry in the middle of the day. She used to make pancakes shaped like stars and braid my hair and sing along to the songs we listened to together.
