Exclusives ❀ H.S

𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞

The sky faded into an ebony black as time passed, and you wondered if perhaps it represented something; perhaps it was not an incidental night sky. The view hadn't previously traversed your mind, for you were far too consumed by the blood pumping through your veins and the thumping of your head. Pressure split through everything you knew, and all of your knowledge filed away. To a greater extent, your lack thereof. Everything you did not consciously know; the knowledge you either did not acquire or did not remember. Perhaps the gods did not favour you. Perhaps the evening and her blood-soaked gown were a punishment, the aftermath of unforgivable sins. Perhaps you were a menace in your past life—perhaps you deserved this.

Allowing your steps to halt and your breathing to calm, you stopped running for a moment. You unwrapped your arms from around yourself and shook them at your sides, feeling the chill of your fingers and the clamminess of your palms. You rubbed your fingertips together as a means to gather warmth and you felt a spark accompany the false warmth embedding into your skin. Adrenaline shot up your spine and compared to a strike of a clock tower, pressuring your bones with the need to continue moving. The notion was prevalent, for you could solely receive aid if you continued. Despite this, your mind was elsewhere, the placement unknown.

You were drawn from your thoughts with a brutish, painful snag. Your hand trembled, frozen in place, remaining at the height of your collarbones. Your fingers had been running through your hair, eyes boring into your bare, cold feet when you felt it.

The snag was caused by something having caught on a knot in your hair. It acted as a snap back into reality, another fierce strike to your cheek. When you gently removed your hand from your hair and gazed down at the hand in question, the justification for your discomfort stared right back at you. It taunted you, confusing you further. A delicate piece of jewelry rested on the ring finger of your left hand. The Asscher cut diamond was laced with blood, crimson liquid tainting the beauty on your digit. It was hard to miss, for it was undeniably dazzling and the only item on your body, excluding your nightgown.

You were married. You couldn't imagine such a thing, being married to someone and not remembering it. It was hard to believe, despite the fact that you had no recognition of anything else, anyways. You couldn't even remember your first name. Whoever you were married to could be lovely and although you were open to the reality of being with a woman, you figured that the society asleep around you had not fully accepted that just yet. Not that you would care. Well, not that you assume you would care. You were unaware of who you were, where you were and who you could be married to, after all. Perhaps the ring wasn't even yours. Perhaps you were a thief, and the blood coating your skin was the aftermath of a burglary; you weren't sure.

You were broken from your thoughts when the wind creaked something near you. You searched and found a pub located to your left, the wooden door dark and bolted shut. It was the first establishment you would have entered had you not noticed the locks or the old, metal sign hanging from the wall, creaking in its trembling movement. Or the older, graying man peering through the window and staring directly at you. He could surely pass for having agoraphobia, his wild eyes looking as though the outside world haunted him.

Perhaps it haunted you, too, and you were merely unaware of the notion.

When she stepped towards the building, in hopes of learning where you are, who you are and why you were covered in blood, unknown as to who it belongs to, you then realized that the man wasn't afraid of the world. He was afraid of you, the woman standing outside at night, dressed in blood-covered cotton. His eyes shone with the negative sort of wonder as sweat trickled down the height of your collarbones and ran frantically on bare, dirt-covered feet. He was afraid of you and quite honestly, you would be too if you were in his position. You found yourself unable to blame the older man but certainly, you wouldn't have been a coward.