I Do Not Want This
You're already dead
There are times when she's weighed under the haze of alcohol induced numbness that she thinks maybe he was right. And perhaps it should be a comfort, a rest bite from the constant ache. Maybe in private moments of hysteria she had begged for it all to end.
Only when she feels so utterly disconnected that she can believe him it is not a relief. It makes panic swell inside till she can't breathe, till she wants to claw at her skin and turn herself inside out just to feel normal again.
She wakes up on the cold bathroom floor and realises that she's afraid to die even as she slowly kills herself because she's afraid of what she will find on the other side. She has visions of a badly burnt and barely recognisable monster that she almost loved waiting to posses her forever, of Paul blaming her and her black widow curse. And worst of all of Liam not waiting for her.
Death seemed impossible when everything constantly hurt so much and it was almost as terrifying as living. It was as if the world had carried on and left her caught in a web of trauma. She could not refuel her car without feeling the overwhelming heat once more. Alone in the factory she could feel the black smoke curling in her lungs and arms around her waist holding her painfully still.
She is drawn to the drink she had come to think as theirs, and then maybe from the briefest flicker of time it all becomes a little easier before it becomes even worse. It is such an illusive feeling and it is all she has.
And sometimes she hates Trevor for being so gentle and patient with her. She wants him to hurt her because she didn't mean to let him fall for her. He looks down at her with a crooked grin and warm affection only he doesn't have the right face. She wants his weight to suffocate and push her into the mattress because his kindness only makes everything else so much worse. She knows she will only end up destroying him and it makes her hate herself even more.
She applies a heavier coating of make-up to cover the dark smudges under her eyes so that no one can see and no one can pity her. She never had been good at letting people under her skin. She can see him in her mirror, standing behind her; she can almost feel his large hands on her shoulders and in her horror she wonders how she ever thought of him as a man, as human. In her despair she thinks he was right all along.
We're going to be together forever