CHAPTER 98

They go in a circle, days following days; either in utter silence or choking to death. Every morning, I get up, in the same bed, in the same damp, chilly, uncomfortable room wanting the day something will be different.

But it never does. Kylo is still absent, and I am still alive, to suffer in this house which is gradually transforming into a mausoleum with every passing day.

This loneliness lingers like an old friend that follows one around, but an unwelcome friend all the same. I attempted to keep the days occupied, keep the mind busy with something that could occupy and possibly distract from the growing anxiety and void within me, and it only grows harder to conceal.

I found that even elements that I used to consider as my safe havens like the designs I create are now becoming a nuisance to me. There I am, at my desk, ready to work, holding a pencil, but ideas no longer flow as once did. My head is too muddled, too heavy with what has occurred.

With this, I end up being on my own