Trigger warnings for this chapter – self harm, depression, suicidal thoughts
I was alone again. A heavy breath expelled itself from my lungs. There was not a specific time that I remembered feeling like this; so empty. All I knew was that every part of my being was stolen away on nights like these, leaving just a hollow husk of a human.
A warm tear rolled down my cheek, making its departure from my jawline and splashing down onto the sleeve of my shirt. My thoughts were becoming jumbled in my head and I was no longer sure what I was feeling.
I looked around the room from my cross-legged position. I have lived a life, I thought. But I didn't feel particularly proud of that. Not many possessions in this room were earned. I frowned as my eyes scanned my belongings; almost everything I had in my life was stolen from the lives I had destroyed.
Maybe, I thought, feeling a shiver run up my spine, I did deserve all the bad that was happening to me. Another tear travelled down my cheek and I leaned my head against the wall. I cried, a sob ripping itself from my throat.
Slowly, I rolled my body off the bed, tip toeing to the bathroom. Gently I shut the door behind me, flicking the light switch on. The small room illuminated, it was bright and cold, like the rest of this place.
Green eyes locked onto the reflection in the mirror, before I quickly leaned down, throwing up the contents of my stomach into the sink. I don't feel like myself, I thought, running the water to rinse my mouth and face. Not anymore. I remember being different.
Now, I was just a watered-down version, thin and pale. Long blonde hair unkempt and messy. I don't remember the last time I ate or changed my shirt. When I look at my body in the mirror, I don't see a body – I see a wound.
A dry sob wracked my body. I gripped tightly to the edge of the sink, trying to keep my balance. I wasn't sure what I was feeling anymore, I couldn't tell the difference between my emotions anymore. Was I angry, or sad? Maybe I was both at the same time. Or maybe it was grief. Perhaps I was grieving the loss of all the parts of me that used to be. He took them from me. He took little pieces of me. I was nothing more than a ghost now.
My body shook as I turned from the mirror. Shaking fingers rummaged through the cabinet. I was tired of being a ghost. Tired of feeling empty and being reduced to a shadow every night. Another sob escaped my lips as my hands grasped the item I was looking for.
My body trembled as pain erupted from my arm. I took a deep breath, relishing in the sensation of feeling something else.
Despite everything, I was sure of one thing. I needed to escape.
Anger washed over me and I opened the door, returning to my room, stripping my clothes from my body, and rummaging through my dresser to find fresh ones. Now dressed, I stood in the middle of the room, my breaths coming out laboured in my rage. Blood began to soak through the sleeve of my shirt, dripping down my fingers.
Quickly I grabbed my pike, adorning it on my back, and reached out for the cryofridge in the corner of the room. There my fingers glided over different pods, carefully selecting my oldest mare, Aspen, and then turning to make my way out and towards the teleporter.
At the head of the cave, Doc was quietly caring for his stegos that had returned from our most recent raid, making sure they were fed and looked after before going to bed.
"Oh, hey Nim," He started, standing up from his kneeling position, where he was inspecting a healing wound on one of the animals. When I didn't respond, he stopped to look at me. "Nim," He questioned. "Everything alright?"
"I'm going out." I growled, stopping on the pad and mashing the button to teleport. The darkness of the cave melted away and fresh air filled my lungs. Before I could even see the trees, I deployed the cryopod.