A cold, stark breeze seeped through the bedroom window and slowly slithered its way towards the bed. Although the room itself was small there was an overwhelming surplus of clutter, every space was occupied by a meaningless piece of furniture, as if someone had attempted to replace the emotional, desolate atmosphere with empty pieces of physical memorabilia.
Despite these desperate efforts the room still felt as vacant and bare as a tomb, an endless void of nothingness.
The breeze expertly manoeuvred its way through the countless barriers before reaching its destination; a silent figure resting on the bed breathing evenly, its body half out of the covers, its back facing the window.
As the breeze came into contact with flesh it immediately disappeared, leaving nothing but a simple shiver and hairs on end. The body itself did not move, although the slight change in temperature did provoke some involuntary reaction, waking the figure from a light, dreamless sleep.
With a slight moan, the woman reached out blindly towards the covers hastily bringing them up to her chin and allowed herself to bury deeper into the bed. Although the winter breeze had woken her she realised subconsciously that the cold would never bother her again. She used to hate the season and all it brought with it; the cold, wet, ice, snow, however this past year had made her adapt, made her hardened to such things.
This past year she had felt the true meaning of cold and compared to that this light wind was a breath of fresh air. Shaking her head in reaction to the darker memories that were now pouring involuntarily into her mind she attempted to clear herself of all thoughts, clawing for the blissful peace of sleep once more.
Just as she was beginning to regain a degree of self-control she heard quiet but distinct sigh of a floorboard, a shadow was approaching. It was silent and subtle, mirroring the breezes' effortless navigation of the room. However, instead of making direct contact it hesitated, hovering over its prey, encroaching her space, but never violating it.
In reaction to this new intrusion the woman's body became deathly still, the blood gradually icing over within her veins as her breathing came to a stop. Time had also come to a standstill; seconds, days, weeks could have passed and yet it seemed that all space and time had coiled itself around this moment, allowing the pain and anticipation to stretch out for an eternity.
This devils dance, this reticent game had become a regular nightly occurrence and yet each time was as intimidating and terrifying as the first. Her passive vulnerability and his overpowering dominance were no more starkly apparent than in these moments and it made her all the more aware of both his un-quenching desire for pain and her helpless inability to resist.
Realising the unnaturalness of her position, knowing the shadow must be aware of her corpse-like demeanour, she purposely breathed out a warm sigh and regulated her respiring and heartbeat to echo a sleeping state. She knew she was conscious, more importantly he knew she was conscious, and yet this little lie that they had both appeared to accept as truth was the only thing keeping her from an unmarked grave.
Time stood still. Only a single droplet of sweat dared to move, falling swiftly from her hairline to her neck, incapable of resisting the heavy force of gravity. Initially condemning the droplet for its betrayal, the woman then recognised that this single droplet reflected her own doomed state. She herself had fallen over the edge and was now unable to fight against the unrestrainable force of insanity.
No sound signified his exit but the room itself seemed to acknowledge it; the ageing, damp furniture creaked in relief as the steady airflow from the window resumed its natural pattern.
Harley did not move, she had neither the desire nor the energy to attempt such a task, but she did give a silent thanks to whoever, if anyone, was listening.
She had lived to die another day.
Unfortunately, she knew deep in her core that fateful day was to come all too soon.