Heterochromic Haze

16- Haunted

I walk home absently, biting my lip as I desperately try and fail to fight the rising emptiness in my chest. That excruciating ache, the haunting echo of a darkness that I had barely managed to escape so many years ago. I claw at my chest, groaning at the feel.

I stagger into my flat, moving into my bathroom as I tug off my clothes.

The shower splutters into life, steam rising quickly as the hot water scolds my skin. Anything is better than the ache. The hollowness. But it doesn't help. I lean my head against the cool tiles, my fingers tugging at my hair as an empty sob escapes my lips.

Dry tears prick in my eyes, crawling down my cheeks as I sink to my knees. The hollowness in my chest spreads, reaching into the furthest corners of my body as I cry. My finger nails dig into my flesh, desperate for a different type of pain, anything to distract me from this.

My sobs tail off, and whilst it felt good in the moment, I'm left with a heaviness that is oh so familiar. It makes every breath laboured, my lungs restricted by a vice like grip. The water from my hair drips into my eyes as I retreat into the recesses of my mind, helpless to resist any longer.

From then on, I exist on autopilot. It's like my soul has disassociated to sunny fucking Spain and all thats left behind is an empty, hollow shell and that addictive, awful ache inside my chest.

I stare at the sculpture in front of me vacantly.

I'm only in my blue joggers, the heat from my frustration making it impossible to wear a shirt. It'll be less clean up in the long run anyway.

I've been at it for at least a week now, with sleep evading me with renewed vigour. I had forgotten how exhausting it is to be tired all the time.

My curtains are now constantly closed, feeling a tedious nauseam at how consistently the sun rises and falls.

A knock sounds at my door and I ignore it, my brow crumpling when I hear Amyas call out.

"Ledger? Let me know you're alright, please?" He asks and I sigh, stumbling over to the door.

His face is crumpled with concern, and it doesn't improve when he catches sight of me.

I can tell what he wants to say. That I look like shit. But he doesn't and I'm glad.

Music is blasting through my speakers but I don't care. I don't care about anything but getting this stupid sculpture finished. It's ironic really, the one thing Everett accused me of and here I am, torturing myself over it in entirely new ways.

I wipe my hand down my face, ignoring Amyas' curious gaze over my shoulder.

"You're still working on it?" He asks and I nod hopelessly.

"It's the only thing left." I say vacantly and he nods hesitantly.

A thought occurs to me, like a sharp moment of clarity.

"I have to get it out. You'll take it, right? When it's done?" I ask and his eyes widen.

"What?" He asks and I nod, feeling insane.

"You'll take it away? Sell it, give it away, anything, I don't care." I say desperately and he watches me with a shell shocked expression before nodding slowly. I hate the thought, giving Everett away but I can't live with it any longer.

"Yeah, I can do that." He says and I exhale heavily, leaning against the door frame.

"When will it be done?" He asks sternly, his brows furrowed.

"Is it morning now? Then I guess this evening? Yeah, this evening." I say and he nods.

"I'll send someone round to move it. Keep your door unlocked." He says and I nod gratefully. Even if I'm asleep, which is unlikely, I have nothing worth stealing.