Devils Revenge

~Chapter Twenty-Nine~

Every time I think I've gotten over the fact that she is gone, someone or something tries to sabotage my life.

When she died, the heartache was so bad to the point where I couldn't process her death.

My denial got the best of me and I kept denying that she was dead. I denied that she was dead for four months.

Four straight months of telling myself that she had just gone away and was coming back.

She wasn't.

Most people think that saying goodbye to the person you love most is the hardest thing they'll ever have to do.

But they're wrong.

The hardest thing they'll ever have to do is live without them.

You do things that remind you of them, thinking it may help ease the emptiness inside.

But it doesn't help. Not one bit.

We try to fill that void they left inside you but it's impossible.

It's impossible because you'll always see them in the objects around you.

You see them in the people around you.

You see them in yourself.

and that's what hurts most.

Seeing them in yourself hurt the most because you realise that they were apart of your soul.

They stole a chunk of your soul.

She stole a chunk of my soul.

And I would happily give the rest of it to her if she were still here.

She died. She's dead.

And sometimes death is supposed to be graceful.

Sometimes death is something beautiful but dangerous.

Like a rose.

You pick the flower, mesmerised by the petals and pretty colours, unaware of the thorns.

Then it pokes you, and blood begins to form on your fingertips. It stings and stings.

And then the wounds eventually heal.

Mine haven't yet.

I still feel the stings.

Sometimes sitting on the bathroom floor was my comfort place. 

I love the way the way my tap would leak and how it made dripping sounds on the porcelain sink.

I find the bathroom my comfort place because no one can see the way I'm so lost.

I like that it's so private.

A place where only my eyes can see things.

And today, only my eyes can see the blood that spills between my thighs.