"There are more friends, they are family."
The girl's eyes glossed over with silver tears. Pouring rain seeped against her damp skin and dripped down her neck.
It was a warm summer night, but she'd never felt so cold. It was the cold that wrapped around her bones and froze her blood into slush in her veins, the cold that came from the absence of someone, more frozen than any change of weather.
She could still see his eyes in her mind—as navy as the starry sky and as devastatingly beautiful as her cracking heart.
His last words had been an "I love you." Spoken through her instead of to her, but she'd taken them for herself anyway.
A sob tore through her lips at the loneliness of the loss, the sheer tragedy of having a temporary part of herself fade away before she could truly find the words to express how deeply a shadow of a man could thread itself into her reality.
Because to anyone else, he was a simple collection of imagination—a spill of longing, a vessel to her fingertips, one last page left turned. But to her, at that moment, he was everything.
He was her warmth.
The temporary tape to her broken smiles and the laughter that filled her usually sagging lungs. He was the hand that had reached into the hole around her and pulled her out quickly, without any thought of himself.
He'd saved her from herself and her empty, chaotic mind.
And yet, here she was, standing in the rain alone with a soggy book closed on her lap.
Because, in the end, she had to love him all alone. And that... that was the coldest truth of it all.
.
.
.
I woke up with a start.
It keeps happening, the same cycle, eat, sleep, and different dreams but same visions.
Its weird.
And not even funny.
I looked around and I was back in my bedroom. I got up and looked in my mirror and there were stained tears down my face.
Then I looked outside my window and I saw mist. It was that again, a dream all too familiar yet not at the same time.
The cool breeze snaps me out of my trance, almost cold and lifelike. I have yet to realize I'm leaning out on the balcony looking at the grass in the rain. Looking up at the sky, it's almost daylight.
I imagine the worlds ending. It's terrifying but comforting.
I can't say I hate it.
I don't know what to do next.
For now, I'll just stand there. Looking up.
I always act and feel like in a movie but not exactly. I pretend to be someone else, someone prettier, smarter, cooler, just better. I pretend that my comfort character is sitting next to me and that I am somewhere far away.
And then when I come back to reality, everything hurts because I want to go back there.
And I'm not even talking about some parts of my life.
I dream and overthink, and I don't know anything anymore. Like I'm sometimes even forgetting who I know, or what happens in my life.
If not that.
I have no answers but a memory.
I see myself lying in a conservatory, on a pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the floor. Beside me lies a boy, a man.
My love.
I don't know who he is. Right now, I don't have a lover. But I'm intertwining my fingers with him, lacing them through his hair, kissing him on his nose.
I'm making him promises, telling him how great-full I am for his existence.
Above us is a sky full of stars, most of which are covered by the rain clouds, the rain, my favorite sound.
I love and miss him, but I don't even know who he is.
YOU ARE READING
Daughter of Crows
Werewolf"If you want peace, prepare for war" - Freye Sometimes you don't get the privilege of making choices. It is either: walk through the fire and get out with a few burns or be flung into it and get charred to death. They didn't have that advantage. T...
