Made of Darkness

James unlocked the front door of our apartment and slipped inside. I had curled myself into a tight ball on the couch, a soft, fuzzy blanket tucked in all around me. I had passed the time as still as a stone. I didn’t think, I just sat. Just breathed. I didn’t dare look inside my heart or mind - didn’t dare in case the flood gates opened and I disappeared in a haze of emotions. Instead, I pressed everything into the hole in my chest where the staff had pierced me through. The pain enveloped the emotions until I could pretend there was nothing left.

James stood in the pitch-black entryway, absolutely silent for three heartbeats. “Des?” he whispered into the room - an invitation, not a demand.

I didn’t want to answer. I wanted to go unnoticed. To never be seen again. Instead, I sighed.