The Hit List

Chapter 24

His words soak in, and I blink, the weight of my confession still heavy in the air.

I lean back against the couch, the chill of the room now palpable on my skin.

I try to fight off the unexpected cold that feels like it's seeping into my bones by wrapping my arms around myself.

However, the chill continues to cling to me, unforgiving and determined to seep into every part of me. I pull closer to myself, escaping behind the weak shield my arms offer.

Sitting there, enveloped in the cold's relentless grip, I can't help but feel more exposed. The sharpness bites me physically, but it also eats away at my emotions, seeping into my mental spaces. Every second that passes, the weight of loneliness is greater on my shoulders; I cannot bear it alone. I long for human connection's reassuring hug and a lighthouse to help me see through the approaching darkness. I close my eyes and head into my solitude, a lone person floating in a sea of cold silence, looking for solace. I want to reach out, to close the distance that separates me from the outside world, but fear prevents me from doing so, holding me down like an anchor. With every tentative breath, the visceral, stifling anxiety tightens its grip on me like a vice and squeezes the life out of me. It is an unrelenting foe that whispers doubt and uncertainty into the corners of my consciousness and creates darkness where light ought to be. I can feel the burden of lost possibilities bearing down on me; every one serves as a reminder of the innumerable instances in which I allowed fear to control my behavior and confine me to the security of my own alone.

However, in the middle of the oppressive grip of terror, there's a sliver of resiliency, a spark of will that won't go out. It flickers timidly at first, hardly visible in the vast darkness, but it gets stronger every instant that goes by, driven by the firm conviction that life is bigger than my fears. I refuse to give in to the shadows that threaten to consume me, even if my hands may shake and my heart falter.

"That's even worse than."

My remark lingers in the air, laden with unsaid connotations that make me shudder.

"I just said all that sober. That's pretty embarrassing."

He shakes his head, turning off the screen. "I'll be right back." He stands up, stretching his legs out with his hands on his hips.

I attempt to wipe my eyes nonchalantly, as he has his back towards me. "Are you going for a smoke?"

"Might as well. But mostly I'm just planning on grabbing some stuff from my car. A change of clothes, toothbrush, sleeping mask, boring stuff like that. I'll be back soon. Try not to miss me while I'm gone." He shrugs, slipping his shoes on beside the door.

He pulls his coat over his head, unlocks the door, and exits my apartment. Disappearing behind the wood.

I sighed deeply, alone again, our conversation's weight hanging over me like a ghost haunting the empty rooms of my apartment. His footsteps disappear in the distance, leaving me with only my thoughts echoing in my head. This sudden emptiness that descends upon me in his absence is a strange feeling; it's as though he's left behind a void that feels like it may swallow me whole.

I feel taunted and haunted. The memories of him linger in my home. His blanket wrapped around my legs, his wine cup sitting on the coffee table, his words refusing to leave my mind.

It's early morning at this point, later than either of us planned to stick around for. Exhaustion pulling at my body. Begging me to kill it in a dreamless slumber.

Instead, I pick up our cups, and dump them into the sink, watching the liquid fall down the drain. Placing both of them on the silver surface.

The sound of plastic clinking against metal reverberates throughout the still apartment, creating a melancholic symphony that breaks up the calm of the early morning. I struggle with the ruins of our shared moments with every step I take; they serve as a bittersweet reminder of what was and what might have been.