Page 3 of Claimed By Ruin

Alone.

Always alone, except with her.

How fucking ironic.

The world had fallen apart, but I hadn’t been alone.

Because of her.

I looked towards the spot she’d vacated, and even though I was sure I still smelled that soap, I felt her absence as much as I had her presence.

Needing to do something, I grabbed the glass of water.

Heard a faint crack, felt the cool wetness of water on my hand.

I loosened my hold, and the shards of glass crumbled into a pile on the table.

It was the same table that was here the first day we arrived, but this wasn’t the same farm.

She wasn’t the same Asia.

I stared down at my hand, watching the blood gather around the shard of glass poking out of my skin.

Felt the sting of the slice.

Welcomed it.

I clenched my fist, then flinched, forcing myself to relax. “Gonna sit here feeling sorry for your fucking self, asshole?” I grumbled.

I pushed out of the chair, the scratch of the metal feet on the floor distant but welcome.

After I picked the glass out of my hand, I wiped off the table, sweeping the shards of glass into the white plastic trash can with sunflowers etched on it.

Not the welcome I would have prayed for if I was dumb enough to pray.

But it was the welcome I deserved.

I put the trash can back next to the long-dead refrigerator and rinsed off my hand, happy to see that the wound was superficial, so I wouldn’t have to worry about an infection.

I looked out the kitchen window and spotted Asia in the distance. She stood at the fence, far enough away that it looked like the morning mist that hadn’t been burned away by the sun might swallow her.

Close enough that I could finally touch her again.

The urge to run to her was there as always, as strong as ever.

Stronger even.

I centered my gaze on her, unblinking as she moved.

She didn’t want me here.

I didn’t blame her.

Didn’t even deserve to breathe her air.

But shit like that never stopped me before.

It wouldn’t now, either.