She showers every night before she falls asleep, always lingering in the downpour of hot water. Always letting just a few tears escape from where she locks them up all day. Hoping that as the water rolls off her skin, that maybe the misery will, too. Wishing that the heat will warm her insides, melt away her hardened, ice-cold heart, and possibly ignite something new; anything but the hollow cavity she's lived with for months. Something different than the bottomless pit of nothing that fills her body and swallows her whole; a hollow echo that permeates her every organ and haunts her every dream.
He comes in closer, and my heart beats faster, my breathing increases. My hands start to shake and my knees feel weak as his face inches closer to mine. He kisses my forehead, and the feel of his gentle lips against my face makes something churn inside of me, but it's a good churn.
"I will never hurt you," he whispers in my ear, his voice low and husky, strong and determined.
She slips and grabs onto the towel rack as she steps out of the shower. The shock of the memory made her lose her balance, almost toppling over onto the hard tile floor; the pain of the unexpected memory rises like bile in her throat, leaving behind a stinging, burning sensation where it touched. She half hopes she would have fallen and hit her head, only to bleed to death on the floor, no longer having to live through this…
But she can't do that. She can't let herself fall back into the hole that she's just now starting to climb out of.
She has to stay strong. If not for herself, for Charlie. She knows that she's all he has. The idea of her leaving this earth, finally being freed from her agony and suffering is an idea that she whole-heartedly would love to follow through with and be done with this already; but when she thinks of Charlie, left behind and all alone, having to deal with the tragedy of her suicide, she realizes that she can't do that. She has to make it through this for him.
Bella grips the sink and takes a deep breath, raising her head to get a good look at herself in the mirror. Her lifeless eyes, her decaying energy showing in her weakening limbs. Her life is being sucked in by his memory, and it's taking all of her strength to not think about him anymore.
She's secretly thankful that his name had gone out of style a while ago--otherwise, she'd be forced to hear it most days. She didn't have to put up with hearing it by chance, and the solid tear that'd rip through her chest as soon as she made the connection between the name and his face, and what he had done to her.
Sighing, Bella put her wet hair in a bun on her head and wrapped a towel around her, tiptoeing from the bathroom to her bedroom. It was late, and she didn't want to wake Charlie.
Once in the safety of her bedroom, she locked the door and turned off the light. The only light source in her room was from the window; a streetlight a few houses down lit up her room in the tiniest, eeriest way.
She laid down in her bed, burying herself under the sheets, finding comfort in being able to hide herself, even if just from her bedroom. She knew she should get dressed, but she honestly couldn't find the motivation to do it. Why even try to look presentable? No one was going to visit her in the middle of the night anymore.
With that thought, she exhaled as if she'd been punched straight in the chest. She had thought about him, even though it was indirect, and it tore open the patch that she'd closed up by now. The tears started coming, and she buried her face in her pillow, muffling her sobs that were becoming increasingly louder and stronger.
She was alone again, as always. The same way it had been for the past several months. She had stopped counting the days by now; she finally accepted that he would never return for her the way he once had. He didn't love her the way he had, and he'd never love her again.
When the heaves and sobs turned into quiet hiccup-like cries, she rolled out of bed, grabbed her chair and pulled it over to the window. She sat in it, resting her head on the glass and taking her fingers and sweeping them over the windowpane. The window wasn't open, nor had it been since the night he left. She began crying a little heavier now, realizing no one would be sneaking in through that window anymore.
Alone, forever. He left her again when he swore he never would. He broke his promise to her, not once, but twice, and what remains of her was left alone to pick up the pieces. But she can't do that. She couldn't do it the first time he left, and she can't do it this time, either.
Forever abandoned. Never to be whole.