Throat tight, I turned to leave, carrying the kind word with me, along with the image of their camaraderie. In another life, I could’ve been that girl, sitting with friends, laughing over drinks. In another life, I could’ve been the woman tucked under a man’s arm, cared for.
In another life.
Maybe, if I had a next one, it would be kinder to me.
Back in my room, I sat on the bed—the only furniture I had—and stared at the sachets in my lap. A bottle of water rested on the floor beside me.
Ripping the packets open, I emptied them into the water, shaking it until the powder dissolved.
My hands trembled. My heart pounded.
This was it.
Taking a deep breath, I brought the bottle to my lips and tipped it up.
The bitter liquid burned as it went down.
Emptying the bottle, I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
It was a nice ceiling, with fake ornamental designs around the fan. Not cracked or peeling like the ones I’d stared at before.
It was a nice last ceiling.
Why was I thinking about ceilings?
Tears streamed down my face as I lay in the dark, the light from a streetlamp casting shadows across the room.
I let myself think of him for the first time in months.
A nameless man who had changed my life—for better, for worse.
A man who made me believe I mattered.
A liar who had left me here to rot.
“I’ll always come for you.”
Liar.