White silk sheets spread over the bed as we laid under the smooth fabric. My head on his chest with his broad tattooed arms around me as a never ending silence settled in the air. The night came quicker than my will to keep breathing. A moment too soon and the sun was now replaced with the crest moon against a starry sky.

I wanted everything to feel just as how it used to before the fall. But then I felt as though the world had taken a sudden drastic turn and I was facing the greatest loss of all. Faster than anything I'd ever known, I was sinking under. As I laid next to his heated body, I failed to comprehend who I truly was. Somewhere along the line, like a stroke of lightning, I died. And I can't remember where I lost myself. At what point did I completely vanish.

May be it was a long time ago. When I was left behind alone to fight with the people who threatened to ruin my Innocence and sanity. Or may be I lost myself on the road to freedom, within the city lights and on the idea of being In love. Or worse, may be I lost myself on the journey towards finding myself. In the heist against my past, I lost myself in the arms of what I thought was my future. May be I led myself into a trap.

I hate to think that I actually found myself instead, and freedom and happiness and then just threw it all away over moments of pure weakness.

But then again, none of that really matters because I'm already lost.

Or simply, dead.

Atleast that's how I feel.

When you can no longer recognize yourself, can no longer feel yourself within yourself then isn't that being dead after all?

When sadness, anguish, desperation and pain is all I feel. Aren't I as good as dead?

I raised my head to stare at his sleeping muscular figure. His lips parted and eyes shut as he held onto me. When a man does all he can to put a smile on your face but then you turn him into a monster because of your actions, Who is to blame?

I was speaking pitifully to myself.

I can still feel the ways of which he touched me in that bathroom. God! It felt so diverged, foreign, futile. We have often done it rough, strong, hard but this time it was just___ dark. It was all of me but none of him. I couldn't feel the man that loves me inside of me. I only felt a man and nothing else more. It wasn't the same. Enos wasn't loving me right then. He took me in anger, to mark me, to claim me as his own that I don't ever forget it. It felt objectifying. It was beyond domain. And that's not the man I know.

I turned us into this.

It was once, he most certainly won't ever claim me in that type of way again, but it's so deeply engraved into my mind that I can't un-feel it.

I can't help but wonder, at what point did I lose my strength? Or have I always been this weak? Am I that submissive? Am I so easy to claim? Is it all so simple?

Is that why I've always been a target?

For all those times I was being abused in the past, did I truly do that to myself? Was my weakness the problem?

And why does a single moment make me question things that happened years ago? Enos didn't take me against my will. I wanted him inside me just as much as he wanted me against that wall. But why can't I shake off the memory of my afflictions upon that Single act? Just because it felt objectifying doesn't mean I have to feel so disgusted.

Thoughts of James came to mind. And the many nights we tangled ourselves in bedsheets naked. The long hours of having him so deep inside my wetness that I lost my senses. He didn't love me then. But does loving me now change the fact that I was initially a tool to him?

Why do I do this to myself?

That entire night, I couldn't sleep. I was drowning in guilt and self loathing because I deserved it. I felt worthless and so so useless to myself and to everybody else in many ways but one. And I was truly.

That's probably the reason everyone leaves me.

_______

I watched silently as Enos stepped out of the bathroom the next morning. He came to bed and leaned in, giving my temple a kiss. "I'm getting us breakfast. You must be starving."

I wasn't.

The thought of food made me want to throw up.

He sat next to me, "You barely slept last night."

My mouth was extremely heavy and I failed to respond. Instead, I just nodded silently. It didn't surprise me that Enos noticed my sudden insomnia. He usually wakes up in the middle of the night to check up on me.

His hand palmed my forehead, feeling the temperature there. I was ice cold. "Hot chicken soup will do you some good."

"I'm not sick." I tried to assure, throat dry and rusty. I felt exhausted and blue.

"And yet, we're still having soup despite that." His hand was cautious with pliancy as he held my shoulder. "I'll bring extra food, you barely ate yesterday."

Enos prompted himself out of bed and began dressing up. We didn't talk about anything else after that. I wanted to remain in my headspace and so I laid back down in bed while turning to the other side, choosing to face the wall.

Before he left, Enos gave my forehead one last kiss and walked out. I heard the locking of the door as he exited. I ignored the fact that he left me trapped inside even through i wasn't planning to leave. I knew it was James who Enos mistrusted. But he should know it would take more than one closed door to keep James out of my life.

I remained alone in there, caged with my thoughts. Watching the ghosts of my past walking around the room. It wasn't scary anymore. I didn't want to run away as I saw the shadows of my enemies. I wasn't pushing the images away. I just laid down and listened at them mock me. I listened at them screaming about how I ruined my life. About what a piece of shit I truly am. About how worthless and mediocre and foolish. About how selfish I can be. And how I deserve to die. And how nobody is ever going to truly love me. About how I should disappear. I listened to them remind me that I'm unhappy, that I won't ever be happy. And that I don't deserve to be happy.

I listened.

And listened.

And accepted and accepted it all.

Because If I had admitted to myself long ago that I was useless, then I wouldn't be here. I would've spared myself a lot of pain if I had just accepted that I'm worth nothing. The hope I gave myself, it's the reason my bubble has been bursted. And now we're back to reality. I'm not worthy of happiness and peace and love and that's why its always taken away. How many times will the universe remind me until it finally sticks? How many times will history repeat itself for me to finally understand? Its always a circle. I'm always going to think I'm in love and happy. And then it's going to end. And then we'll be back to this. I'll be back with the ghosts.

When Enos returned later with food, I found it hard to hold a spoon of soup. My fingers began to tremble before I could get food into my mouth. Enos noticed my struggles and immediately took the spoon from my hand before I spilt the content. I was exhausted and weak and fatigued.

Enos feed me by himself, patiently. It didn't take a minute for me to go throwing up in the toilet. He held my hair up as I emptied my guts.

"I'm tired Enos." I said with my back against his chest for support as we sat on the bathroom floor.

"I know baby." He pulled my weary body tenderly and impossibly closer into his. "I know."

I was tired of everything.

I was tired of life.

_____________