She fell into the bed, pulling the covers over her as she went. In the darkness of the room she felt the cold cotton of the duvet on her skin. She shivered, but not from the temperature or even the tears sliding freely down her face, but from the pain that once again ripped through her. A pain noone should experience. A pain caused by something so sacred, something so humble, so honest. Her tears were a symbol of a past life, a life she could no longer have. She left that life standing on the pier. She wasnt Ruth anymore. How could she be? Ruth had never felt like this, empty and abused.
She couldn't breathe, the pain was so consuming. It hurt deep inside, she knew it was never going to subside. She had made the one crucial mistake she had promised herself she wouldnt do that day. She had thought of him and it hurt. One thought of the man she had left, it hurt so much. It hurt to think of him, to think of her past but she had to. She knew she had to. To cling to what sanity she had left. To think it was capture, to speak it was torture, to not was suicide. And she was already dead.
Still shaking, she struggled to control herself. She couldn't say it but it came short and sharp. It came as a breath, not spoken, as her lips formed the word. The word she had said so many times, so carelessly, not knowing its beauty. She exhaled violently as her lips formed the word. She wept the impossible, sobbed the inconcievable and breathed the word that both gave her life and killed her.
"Harry"