Their hold on me had long since loosened. A whisper within now the only vestige of their sway. They are, no, we are… I’d believed myself free of them. I let my savior believe the same. But a whisper soon turns into a scream. For they, no, we are many.
Before, it bound me, a small loop of entrapment, endlessly holding me still. All these years, an invisible string connected us, never allowing me to stray too far. Today, my thumb rubs where the ring used to be, and for the first time in forever, I smile.
Seven moments you come to me. Your scent on the wind. Your breath on my cheek. Cherries and smoke. Seven moments I freeze, paralyzed with grief. Your touch torments me, lingering against my skin. Seven moments I choke down the loss of you, refusing to accept your lost years.