Navigating the Aftermath
The wounds from the exit were still open. Since the night he said farewell, there had been six weeks of anguish. He had finished lusting for me, leaving me ripped, damaged, and crushed. However, wasn't that intended to improve me as a person?
The evening he left had turned into a catastrophe. The final words had stunned me so severely that they were firmly imprinted on my brain's cells. Thankfully, some of the horrific evening was beginning to fade. I had overlooked them. It would be wonderful if more memories would fade away. None were necessary to me. not one at all.
My eyelids were sticky and heated. I lowered my butt into Lily's sofa's opening and commanded my grogginess to increase. Sleep was always on my side. I had done nothing in the previous 48 days that I could recall, yet I needed to close my eyes once more to make it all go away. Still, it hurt. Bad.
As she entered the room from the kitchen, Lily pushed a cup of chamomile my way.