Page 403 of Eternal
Over and over. But I see her. The quiet parts, the cracked parts.
“I hate it,” she adds. “That feeling. That emptiness. Like you’re never enough, never worth it, never cared enough about. When all you do is care. It makes the suffering feel...pointless.Like it doesn’t even earn its weight.”
My fingers slide through her damp hair, pulling it gently back from her face. I don’t rush to answer. Some truths deserve quiet before a reply.
“You’re not invisible to me,” I say eventually. “Not the version that replies, not the one who can’t ask. I see both.”
Her eyes close like she’s trying not to cry, or maybe like she needs to believe it for one more second.
The water ripples softly around us as my hands move carefully over her back and arms, tracing away any traces of blood left from tonight. I’m not thinking, only letting my fingers do what they need to, washing away the night, and the feelings too.
She sighs quietly, resting her head on my chest. “I’m sorry.”
“For what, baby?” I ask, my voice low.
She shifts barely, all I required to see the faintest edge of vulnerability. “You clean blood off me so often... I don’t want you to have to.”
I smile against her skin, brushing a stray strand of damp hair from her neck. “I don’t mind. I’d do it forever if I had to. You’re worth every bit.”
The music from the living room hums faintly through the walls, distant but loud enough to follow us during our bath. She closes her eyes and lets herself lean into me, the tension in her muscles slowly melting away under my touch.
We finally slip out of the water. I grab a towel and wrap it around her, careful not to rush. She leans into the warmth, still shivering a little.
She’s already under the covers, bare skin warm against the cool sheets. I lie down beside her, pulling her close.
Her damp hair falls loose, and I reach out, fingers threading through the strands as I begin to braid it gently.
“Tomorrow,” she says softly, voice low and steady, “I’m going to my old house.”
I tuck a loose strand behind her ear, “Are you sure?”
Her eyes meet mine, scared but certain. “Yeah. I think there’s something there I missed... something I need to find.”
I swallow down the knot of worry inside me. “Do you want me to come with you?”
She shakes her head, lips brushing my collarbone in a quick, gentle kiss. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.”
That means I’ll have time to check out the house I bought, finally get inside and see what it’s like. I left that bag of vinyls there, and a few things to make it prettier.
I smile, braiding slower now. “Alright. But if anything happens, you call me. No hesitation.”
“I will.”
I pull the sheets up around us, hand resting on her shoulder, fingers still woven through her hair. “Let me make you feel good tonight.”
Her grin lights up the dark room, and the last thing I feel before sleep pulls me in.
I don’t remember when I drifted off to sleep, but sometime in the dead of night, I woke up.
The room is silent except for the faint scratch of pen on paper.
I sit up, eyes adjusting to the shape of the stars I drew on the ceiling, little constellations I made for her. And there she is.
Sitting on the floor, legs crossed, the journal open in her lap, writing like she’s trying to catch every thought before it slips away.
Loose curls fall in soft waves around her face, and she doesn’t notice me watching.
I want to say something, to ask what she’s found or what she’s looking for. But I don’t.
