Wrists (complete)

Conclusion

Orange light beams in through the window. I wince and put my hand up, shielding my eyes. Lately any kind of direct light hurts my eyes, even pretty sunsets. My sleeve slips down and I'm momentarily distracted from the pain. My wrist looks like a stranger's. I know it's mine, intellectually. I can move it and it has the same mole in the same place my wrist always had... but not exactly. Before the mole was in a dimple, almost covered by fat layers on both sides. Now it sits on top of the jutting bone. I twist my hand around. My fingers never seemed particularly long before, but now they're so thin the widest part is the knuckle. They resemble nothing more than the skeletal early winter trees outside. I try to close my fist around the descending sun. My nails are no longer chewed nubs and instead are so long and sharp they dig into my palm.

"Nin?"

My head turns sharply to the sound, not really surprised. Lately, even though I haven't eaten in months, my senses are hyper aware. I know someone is standing next to me even if they have been really quiet.

I look at the guy as he jumps back at my sudden movement. He has a name. I feel sure I knew it at some point, and it might have mattered. He's good-looking. He's in this class with me. I probably harbored some kind of hopeless attraction for him.

"Are you okay?"

He has hair so black it's shiny. It's reflecting the orange of the sky, but I'm more focused on his skin. I study the spot that disappears into the V of his collared shirt.

"What I mean is," he continues and I glance up at his eyes. "Are you sick?" He continues to talk while I study his left eye. One of his veins has a fatty yellow deposit. I've never seen something like this in someone so young. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but-"

"Good," my voice comes out strange. Deeper, more assured than I remember it sounding. I would stay and stare at his eye if it were daytime, but lately, as soon as the sun goes down, I feel the need to be outside.

I stand up. It's such a simple action now. I command and the body obeys. No gearing up, no agitating about for handholds. I stand, black hoodie fluttering around me like a cape. I gave up on trying to buy new clothes. I just let them swim loose over me, tie belts tighter. I stand, honestly not caring who is looking. I stand, and I walk out of the classroom. I think I'm done coming here.

I pull my hood up against the cold. I have no idea what the temperature is, and it doesn't seem to matter. Every place feels equally cold to me now. The shadows have grown so long they have taken over everything. The nights start so soon in early December. When I step onto the wooded path there is no change in darkness.

I have no fear of anything. Not any of the people around me. Not of anything in the forest. Everything is separate from me. The only thing that is real is my body. It feels good, capable, responsive. Nothing causes problems just by being there. The legs swing next to each other, not rubbing against each other. The arms don't chafe in their sleeves. My gut doesn't get in the way when I'm putting on my jeans. Even my ankles work better not constantly having to balance all that excess weight. Everything is lean, efficient, functional.

Just, really, REALLY cold.

My hands fidget in my pockets trying to warm up, but it's useless. I pause and glance into the woods. Another girl passes me on the path but I barely acknowledge her presence. I focus on... on what exactly I can't articulate. Not a sound or something I can see with my eyes, but some sense is telling me it's out there. The monster. It's watching me. It won't do anything now. It knows if it waits it will have plenty of uninterrupted time with me later, so why risk getting caught now? I take a second to stand there and acknowledge its presence, prey to predator.