Member-only story
You Died. I Lived.
Sometimes an entire month goes by without so much as a second wasted thinking of you. But some nights, you’re in bed next to me, tucking me in the way you used to — whispering sweet nothings (your version of sweet nothings) in my ear and smiling your cheesy grin at me. Though you died alongside my heart the day you signed away our future, your soul still lingers over me, seducing me with its grimy past. I can see it trying to fill the void you created in my now empty chest, leaving my rib cage confused as to what it is supposed to protect, if not my heart. I too, am confused. Perhaps it’s the devil in me stirring about this ruckus that lied dormant for much too long. It wants its turn to create chaos on this body of mine after watching you torture me for years. I allow this devil in me to wake up almost as easily as I used to allow your abuse. It’s okay, I encourage it. Dare it even. It is part of me after all, and I feel in control when it is me harming me, not you.
