he sun was so bright it was blinding.
Dark spots swam in front of my eyes. My chest felt tight and the air was heavy with an impending storm. In spite of the brilliance, clouds gathered behind me—threatening to swallow the light.
But I kept my back to the dark. I faced the burning rays and refused to look away.
It scorched my skin. It tasted like fire.
I imagined dying like this.
In the ashes of the sun.
I felt his hand in mine, and for a moment I could believe this was where I belonged. With him.
Only him.
I could ignore the voice inside that screamed at my betrayal.
How could I turn my back on everything I know?
On everything I believe in?
What will happen to me now that I doubt? Now that I have lost my faith?
The wind began to pick up, blowing my hair across my face, shielding my eyes from the sadistic sun.
His fingers squeezed mine. His heart wrapped around me in its unmerciful grasp.
“I love you.”
His words were soft. Sweet. But not simple.
They carried so much weight. So much pain. So much hope.
“I love you,” he said again, wanting me to say it back.
But I couldn’t.
How could I when my soul was split in two?
Thunder rumbled as the clouds encroached. Taking away the light.
His love was the storm. It eclipsed the sun. And I didn’t know whether to be thankful or bitter.
I felt the first drops of rain on my skin. Cold. Penetrating to the bone. Replacing the warmth that had been there only moments before.
The brightness was gone. Snuffed out as if it had never been.
What would become of me now?
With my world in ruin and his hand still in mine?
My tears mixed with the rain.
And I began to cry. For the first time in years.
I cried. And I cried. And I cried.
For everything.
