⊰ 7 ⊱ An Impossible Request

I inhale deeply as my eyelids flutter open.

There’s an odd numbness lingering in my chest as my empty eyes gaze at the coffered ceiling with gold lining. Despite the unfamiliarity, my absent mind ignores the lingering discomfort in my shoulder as my sight shifts to the illuminating, flat, round bulbs in the center of the odd geometric pattern of the decorative panel.

I wasn’t ready. Although, I suppose, I probably never would have been.

Levi…

I didn’t get to say goodbye the first time he left, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe the reason he avoided saying goodbye at all is because he knew how I’d react. If 24-year-old me couldn’t hold it together, what hope was there for 18-year-old me to not have utterly collapsed under the heartbreak of knowingly parting ways with the only family I had left—the only family I have left.

I suppose I only wish he’d stayed with me until I fell asleep.

Would it have made it all better?

The breath that parts my lips makes my chest slowly fall, my head