Page 84 of Chalk Outline
“Reeve Hardy, I have perfect class attendance. You will not corrupt me.”
“What if I kiss each freckle on your face? My favorite constellation.” He looks at me with those daring eyes that sparkle with mischief.
“My answer is still no.”
“Good girl.” He places his thumb and forefinger under my chin. “I was just checking to see how easily you bend.”
My cheeks flush. “Mhmmm.” Laughter and giggles escape me at his words and the cute little gesture. “You will have to try harder or apply more pressure if you want me to bend,” I retort.
Nibbling on his lower lip, he leans closer to whisper in my ear. “Oh yeah?” I feel him sniff my musky-scented perfume. Then a sharp sting meets my earlobe as his teeth sink into it before he says, “I’ll test that theory next time.”
“Why did you leave me with all of these heartbreaking memories?” My voice breaks, and my shoulders tremble. “It’s not fair.”
I constantly live in a state of déjà vu. Every stolen glance, heady kiss, accidental touch, or intentional one swarms my mind and strangles me. I relive him over and over again, experiencing him in every way imaginable, as if I didn’t, he’d be erased.
Those memories cut me deeply, and the scars he left refuse to fade as my darkest days pull me into a whirlwind of suffocating silence. When will my mind go quiet?
“When will you leave me alone?”
It tears at my insides.
Just let me go.
“You promised not to go, and you left.”
My eyes burn, filled with fresh tears. The water and my tears blend together, and I can’t tell what’s real anymore.
“Wherever it is that you are, please set me free.”
I suppose I have one answer: no matter what I do, he will always reside in my mind, fighting to remain there and rule the deepest parts of me.
Some say there are worse things than death: suffering, for example. It has a chokehold on everyone caught in it. But if monsters breathe oxygen, and my husband was forced to inhale their toxic fumes, they deserve to die.
Grandma was right.
This place is cruel.
It forces us to confront our timid selves, relive our memories, and survive while death breathes down our necks. It pushes us to ask more questions without any hope of finding answers. It completely isolates us from our minds, bodies, and souls for the chance to form a new identity.
In the end, my biggest fear is that I will forget about him someday. Not because I want to, but because I will finally let go.
I want to… but deep down I don’t.
I wear my insulated suit, don a beanie, and head to the balcony.
Three months have passed since I entered this tower. Thick blankets of snow cover the forest, accumulating nearly everyday. I adjusted the retractable sunshade with Jason’s guidance to shield myself from the heavy snowfall.
We experienced only one power outage that lasted ten minutes until the power returned. He kept talking me through it, refusing to remain silent for too long.
The stream below has turned into ice. The buzzing forest is quieter. Everyone is hibernating, including us.
Jason snaps his head toward me when he sees me against the railings, communicating volumes with a fleeting glance from the other side. The heartbreak in his eyes catches me off guard sometimes. His face remains a mystery, and I don’t think he plans to reveal himself anytime soon. I wonder if there’s a reason behind it, like a scar or disfigurement he’s hiding, or maybe he just feels comfortable wearing a mask. Whatever it is, I’ve grown to enjoy his company.
A gust of snow flurries past the top rail beside me as I place the radio on it and smile from ear to ear.
“Were you crying and talking to your husband in the shower?” he asks, already knowing about my ritual. I can sense a smile forming beneath the mask without seeing it, because I see it in his eyes. There’s no judgment there either.
“A little,” I reply, contemplating it for a moment longer.
