She lay on the bed and listened in the silence, she fancied she could hear the vibrations from the hastily closed door, the cold closed door behind him and in front of her. A burning sensation filled her head and slowly tears began to run again from her already swollen eyes. He’d thought she was crying from the waves of passion that enveloped them both and he caressed her face and smiled. Every touch brought her closer to telling him again that she loved him, that she couldn’t live without him, that each breath she took without him felt like her last. Knowing he wouldn’t understand, no, rather didn’t want to understand she held herself back and the effort came out like summer tempests of tears.

With effort, she rolled over onto her back gently feeling the tender places where he had held her so hard, she could still feel his arms around her, if she closed her eyes she could even see his face, so close against hers. God how she loved him, and once he had loved her too. He’d said the words she longed to hear, he’d promised forever and she’d kept every one of his letters in her mailbox, carefully archived, as if she’d somehow known that he’d be gone one day. She wished she had the strength to tell him not to come around anymore, but she needed this, she needed to touch him and besides, then she’d have to admit that he’d hurt her.

And, sweet hell, how he’d hurt her. It was as if a huge hole had opened up in her chest and her heart was missing. All that was left behind was a gaping screaming void that the wind rushed through dragging her sanity with it. She stumbled to the bathroom, sweat and sex clung to her like a veil of sheer lust and where his body lay against her, she burned. She leaned heavily against the basin, the stark white light illuminating the planes of her body grotesquely, she hadn’t been eating too well since he’d gone, hell, she’d not been doing a lot of things too well since then. Slowly she looked up to the mirror and reeled back in shock, she hadn’t realized how dead she looked lately. Staring back at her was a parody of the face she knew it was all hollows and shadows and her eyes were like wild animals hiding from the light.

Drawing a bath she sat down slowly on the side of the tub and began slowly to cry. God, she was so very very alone, and the days stretched before her like endless lines of grave markers, each one heralding the day he left and she died, died forever inside. Turning off the taps she eased her body into the hot water and reached slowly for the soap, a flash caught her eye. It was the little silver razor blade pendant he’d given her when she’d joked about being fascinated by death. Her thin pale fingers reached out and took hold of it, she noticed that her hands looked like white birds flying against the dark fabric of the night outside.

It wasn’t till the morning she woke up, refreshed and strangely without the familiar pain that her loss had left her with. Her body felt light and soft, “helluva bath” she thought, she lifted her leg out of the bath and looked down to see where her towel had got to as it was freezing. She whirled round, a strange girl stood in the doorway smiling and holding out her hand, “don’t worry,” she said, “you won’t be needing that anymore, I’ve come to take you home....”