nearly a decade {Tsiuri x Ellen}
Mar 27, 2023 6:16:02 GMT -5
Post by k!ah on Mar 27, 2023 6:16:02 GMT -5
Today marked nine years since Arabella's death.
Nine years since Matthew and I had lost a little piece of who we were.
For so long I had thought that I wouldn't heal. That the hole in my heart that Arabella had filled would forever be an open wound, constantly bleeding, forever hurting. There are still evening when I can see her as clear as day, sitting by the fire, chatting endlessly to a patient Mathew who listened to who so carefully, as though each word was as important as the next. There were nights where I woke up choking on a sob, Arabella's mutilated body seared into the back of my eyes lids. Those nights Matthew would roll me over, hugging me tightly until I fell asleep, the feeling of his fingers drawing soothing circles on my arm.
On this day, every year, I find that Matthew disappears. I don't see him for the whole day and when he returns home his eyes are glassy and his cheeks are red. I know where he goes. He goes to her grave, he lays fresh flowers, and he sits and talks to her, tells her about how the harvest is treating us. He reads he stories that she had wrote before she was taken. I used to ask him if he wanted me to come, but he would insist that he needed to be alone. So I had stopped asking.
Tonight I find myself on my own, arms hugging my body tight as I shielded myself against the cold. I was supposed to be making my way home, but instead I push open the door to an old dinghy bar, taking a moment to scan the room before taking a seat at the counter. It smelt like stale beer and body odour. The man in the corner was sleeping in his own sputum.
I stare for a moment longer before I flag down the bartender, offering her a smile, though I had a feeling that it failed to reach my eyes. "One whiskey please."
