CACOPHONY | ✅

~03~

Getting out of bed, my mind unvoluntarily plays yesterday's events in my head. I think back to how I had pried my wet eyes apart and was on my feet in the next instant, rushing towards this room, tears rolling down my cheeks and dripping off my chin.

The oxygen didn't like me, then. And my lungs had betrayed me, and my heart had bailed out on me.

But I knew, you wouldn't. You would save me. Like you always had. You would help me breathe again.

But I froze when I reached your door, too afraid to enter. Afraid that I might have to face reality again.

I look at the door and my eyes lock find the bronze doorknob. Yesterday, I had stared at it for what seemed like hours, before I turned it with a shaking hand, then pushed the door open.

I remember how my fears had laughed in my face as I was welcomed by darkness and silence.

You weren't in here. Again.

You couldn't be in here, I had reminded myself. You hadn't set foot in the house for weeks.

You couldn't lose him, my heart had whimpered.

I haven't lost him, I'd told it.

My tears came more rapidly as I'd rushed towards your closet, heaving for air. I'd pulled out a shirt, and held it against my face to inhale, hoping to find your scent in it.

But all I smelled was detergent and fabric softener.

No. No no no. I shooke my head.

This can't happen. There has to be something here, my brain kept yelling at me.

Sobbing, I had tried to blink away the seemingly never ending streams of tears flowing from my eyes to clear my vision, while I'd rummaged through your wardrobe, frantically pulling out your clothes, sniffing them and tossing them onto the floor.

You can't lose him, my brain had screamed.

I won't, I had reassured it with a sob.

But the pain in my chest had grown sharper when I'd found myself standing before an empty cupboard minutes later, and reality had dawned on me yet again.

I had lost you.

Only you could have saved me, and I'd lost you.

Another strangled sob had escaped my lips as my tears continued to fall. Sweat had beaded on my skin and my teeth begun to chatter while my legs gave in and I'd sunk to the floor.

I had lost you.

My chest had constricted and the pain had spread through my whole body. I gasped for air, pounding at my chest with my fist, hoping to knock some sense into my stupid organs.

Like me, they had vowed to cease to exist without you.

You lost him, they'd cried.

You lost him, they'd wailed.

I lost you, I'd wept with them.

I had lost you.

I had tried telling them that vows can be broken. That they can't always be with the ones they love.

That sometimes, letting go is the only way to hold on.

But I wasn't able to convince them.

So I'd sat on the floor for hours, crying to myself and struggling to breathe, while I clutched your clothes to my heart.

Wondering if holding onto the little parts of you, that you've left behind, would get me through my remaining days.

Wondering how breathing could be so difficult.

Wondering how living could be so painful.