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Chapter Four: A Soul with the Light Put Out

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Time died with my father. Days disappeared and weeks withered under the weight of my grief. My soul mourned for him. Sleep was my only refuge. 

The only hint of an outside world was the delivery of the newspapers at my front door. They continued to print slanderous stories about my family: my father's failures, my degree in 'fashion' -- always in quotes -- and how my mother, the goddess Freya, had a habit of exchanging love for dwarven jewelry. This amount of news coverage was unheard of. My heart begged for it to stop. I wanted to cancel the subscriptions, but my arms were too heavy to reach for the phone. Even if I could find the strength, how could I speak? My voice had left along with everything else dear to me in this world. 

Isolation swallowed me. I curled up and slept in its dark, empty stomach.  

I was truly alone.

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