REKINDLED || Completed

5

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Five
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Author: I must warn you, crazy chapter ahead!

It was the eeriness in the air...the thick darkness of that familiar space that disturbed Asher.

Sat upright against the familiar headboard of her bed with a cup of coffee in hand, Asher stared into an opposite wall.

She wouldn't say she was so used to it, she wasn't. It was still creepy sitting in a room with nothing but a dim night light on. Making absolutely no sound.

She peered up at the hole in the ceiling, where a light bulb would have been radiating a light she so much needed in that moment, thinking that it also ditched her to be all alone in the seemingly normal world.

Stray tears escaped her sleep deprived eyes, yet she simply felt numb.

Alone.

She wanted to end it right there.

As soon as the wicked thought crept in amongst the multitude, she harvested it, nursed it, craved for it.

She simply wanted to die.

Let off the burden before it crushed her frail shoulders.

She lowered her gaze to the black liquid she couldn't do without, failing to make out her own reflection. She put the cup down on the nightstand and forced herself up.

She trudged to the old trunk that sat at the corner of the small room and pulled it open. The silvery shine of the bladed object caught her eye.

She smiled.

Emery, she mused.

She remembered stealing it, along with a couple other things in that room she stole when she ran away.

Emery.

Her friend, her solace. Always had been calling out to her in tiny whispers. She'd promised to help Asher end her pain, she'd promised to stop the nightmares, to bring the rest and inner peace she was desperate for.

"Emery..." The words tumbled out of her parched lips "I... I think I'm ready" she whispered with a smug smile, another tear sliding down her cheeks.

It would be a brave move; one step out of reality and into eternity, where nothing mattered.

The joy she felt from having to do what she wanted to propelled her to go down to her knees and gently lift the dagger out of the trunk. She cradled it in her hands like it was sacred. It felt like it was because, it promised peace and only sacred things promised peace.

She marvelled at it.

"Beautiful..." She cooed in a soft whisper.

She didn't think she had anything to lose. Afterall, nobody would care.

She'd left a track of artworks all over the bay's most cherished walls, and a legacy. One of a daring criminal artist whom the world would never know.

That was enough for her. She was satisfied with that. Besides, she got caught so it might as well have been a means to an end.

Her end.

The whole world would be revolving, regardless.

She took a moment to look around that tacky room. Dust settled on everything but her bed. The bed, it was the only one who embraced her in time of grief, who didn't think her sorrow was a disturbance. Her bed seemed to understand her more that Laramie did. More than the whole world did.