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He lies still beside me, moonlight spilling over his smooth skin and broad shoulders and reflecting off the beads of his necklace. His breathing echoes in the silence, too quiet to offer comfort or reassurance in the darkness. He pulls the blanket closer to his chest, turns, and sighs. Even from behind, his magnificence radiates like heat off the asphalt on a hot summer’s day. How I wish he would hold me with his muscular arms, kiss my forehead with his sweet lips, yet my cries fall on deaf ears. He rubs his clean-shaven head and mumbles incoherently before sighing and pulling the rest of the covers into his grasp.

Silent as a ghost, I sit up and place my feet on the floor. Moving on habit, my hand reaches for my tin, full of Vicodin. How I saved and fought for these, yet they remain in my tin unused. Doubt fills my mind as I consider maybe it’s not worth it, perhaps I shouldn’t. One after another, the pills float down my throat like small boats racing down a waterfall. Full of pharmaceuticals, I stand and shakily make my way to the bathroom, looking in the mirror.

Cheeks sunken in, lips pale and dry, eyes lifeless – how does he not see this? Flaws trail through my mind, strengthening my resolve as tears spill from my eyes. I rip open the drawer and rummage in a tear-filled fury until it surfaces. I break the razor, impatient for release, and press the blade to my thigh. The knife slices through my buttercream skin, blood spilling out in a beautiful crimson cascade. Again and again, the razor blade cuts with ease and releases new fountains of blood.

The blade falls from my fingers as I step away from the bloody sink. My reflection shows a gory mess – an emaciated, mutilated human being. I walk through the door, leaving droplets of blood along the floor. Floorboards creak beneath my feet, the cat scurries through the shadows, an evening breeze floats through the window. I push the door open and shuffle silently to the side of the bed. Eternal darkness lurks along the edges of my vision, urging me into the bed. He lies on his back now, sprawled out as he does when I leave his side. I cuddle up next to him, feeling the pull of Vicodin, inviting me into a sleep I know I won’t wake up from. My blood smears across his chest, glistening in the bright moonlight. I close my eyes and give in, too tired to fight on any longer.