It has been pouring rain all day, and it didn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. Opening his eyes, his breath hitch in his throat as he slowly slip out of his sleep. His mind went back to days ago, weeks even, of every little detail he could remember. Her hair, her smell, her voice if possible. Forcing himself to breath, he felt a numbness spreading over him.

 

Turning on his side trying to ignore it, he found his bed to be a bit more spacious now that she was no longer there. The room was dark except for the window next to his bed that shined enough moonlight through the blinds for him to see and feel how empty his room was.

 

He craved for peace, but his mind wouldn’t let him. Throwing moments, images, and when it could happiness, just to rip it all away again knowing that it wasn’t real. She wasn’t there, wasn’t his to claim anymore. Standing up he looks at himself in the mirror. His five o’clock shadow showed how long he has been trapped in his apartment, refusing to leave and interact with others.

 

His muscles actually ached from lack of moment. Eyes going to his chest and throat, bite marks. He could no longer claim her but she was still there, marked on his body. Even that would soon fade away, her smell in the room was already slowly starting to leave. Again breathing got hard, pleading to hear her voice again, maybe that would release him from the pain.

 

His body and mind has been going back and forth between numbness and heartache. The motivation to even leave the room was only because he knew he had liquor in his cabinets.

 

Sitting down in his small kitchen, he could replay all the meals she would cook him, she wasn’t perfect at it, but she always tried so damn hard to learn new things. Gripping the scotch, he pours some in his cup chugging it away hoping it could burn away something.

 

Just getting to the kitchen was tiring, letting his head drop to his arm on the table he decided to go for it. Maybe if he went through that pain it would eventually lessen. First off, she was buried on May 7th. It’s been three days since. He has been getting by on cup soup and liquor. Already he felt his body going to waste.

 

She had such a bubbly personality, and it soon became his reason to smile. Now that was no longer there, all he felt was anger, shame, could he have done anything to keep her here with him? Probably not, and that’s what made him feel so helpless. Cursing, he throws his cup against the wall as it shatters to pieces. He felt animalistic, not sure why, just wanted to be consumed by it. But it left just as quickly as it came.
Getting up, he grabs the bottle as he makes his way back to bed. Maybe he can try again tomorrow. For now he doesn’t wanna think or remember.