Chapter ten

673 38 7
                                    

8 nov

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

8 nov

Grief is a shadow
following me everywhere
I can't get rid of it
It finds me
Always
Everywhere
However small or undetectable
It's there
Always behind me
Always lurking
Always threatening to swallow me whole

***

The sound of the emergency door opening and slamming shut penetrates my spiraling thoughts. When I look up and see her, I want to laugh. Of course, she's here. Of course, she followed me like I'm a wounded animal waiting to be rescued.

Of fucking course.

I watch her scanning the alleyway leading to the bar's parking lot. Her gaze bumps from the trashcans to a bicycle to me in the shadow of the light illuminating the alleyway. She approaches the windowsill of the bricked-up window I'm half sitting on, half leaning against. She's wrapped in a soft yellow winter coat, her arms hugging her chest with a jacket locked in between her arms and her chest.

"What are you doing here?" The venom in my words matches the one coursing through my veins, powered by memories of the past.

"I wanted to enjoy the fresh below zero winter breeze." Obviously. It's silent but definitely there.

It's bullshit, and we both know it. The tip of her button nose slowly changing color to match her firefighter-red lips is proof of that.

"I brought your coat. Thought you might be cold." She motions to the jacket hanging over her arms.

"I'm not a damsel in distress, you know." The words fly out, scrutinizing her act of kindness.

"I'm not attempting to be a knight in shining armor. I tried already and failed miserably. For starters," she holds up her index finger, "I can't sword fight for the life of me and I tried horseback riding once but I fell off of the pony so I scratched that hobby off my hobby list. Do you know what I can do? I can give you a speech about hypothermia," she answers her own question with surprising enthusiasm. "I haven't practiced that one lately but it's kind of similar to the dying of infection speech. I'm sure you remember. You know, with the black eye and all that." Her index finger makes small circles in the direction of my eye and I stare at her, taking in her playful jab.

She's a bulldozer but instead of swinging at me with a destructive ball, she's bulldozing me with words. Random facts about herself. Ridiculous speeches about me dying from hypothermia. It's absurd. It shouldn't be entertaining. It really fucking shouldn't.

"Was that a muscle twitch? Your lip. I saw it twitching. I don't want to scare you to death, I'm sure hypothermia will bring you there just fine, but shivering is a sign of hypothermia. Then it's the slow movements, pale skin, confusion, memory loss. Before you know it you're an ice sculpture. And not the kind people admire."

Walk me HomeWhere stories live. Discover now