Hidden Moonlight

Her fingers tightened their grip on the fabric. It fisted into the loose t-shirt, and she felt it cling to her skin. When she looked past the little piece of plastic, she barely recognized herself. Her usually so vibrant blue eyes appeared dull and dead in a sunken face, shadows gathering beneath her eyes and adding years to her young life. Brown hair tumbled down around her shoulders, messy and unkempt. She hadn't brushed it in days, and at least when it was loose, it hid the worst of the bruises. They were fading, quickly. If only the ones left on her soul, did the same. Feeling faint, she stumbled forward, gripping the edges of the empty sink. She'd dropped the test in the process and heard it hit the floor. Was it broken? No, they were made to take the fall. Dropped in awe, accompanied by a gasp, happy tears and a swell of joy. She'd experienced it all from the sidelines, but it wasn't her turn. Not yet, not like this. Not with the beast that had cornered her three weeks ago, and left her broken in an alley when he was done with her. She needed to get rid of it. The temptation to claw it out felt primal, and animalistic. It was felt with a fierceness that shocked her and forced a tremble through her body. But as quickly as it had come on, as quickly it faded. She didn't realize that her eyes had glossed over with tears, till they dripped down, hitting the porcelain and breaking the lonely silence in the small bathroom. No. Whoever its father was, the resulting child was innocent. Defenseless. It needed a protector, and so did she. Tearing herself away, she walked slumped, feeling like a zombie. Her feet dragged behind her into the living room where her phone buzzed with incoming messages. Friends, family, colleagues. Asking where she was if she was okay. They hadn't seen her since that night when she drug herself up the stairs and locked herself in the apartment. She had lived on crumbs and tapwater, refusing to see the outside. She ignored them all, and instead scrolled to a name she knew would never turn down her call. One ring... Two ring... Three ring... Her chest tightened, suddenly in doubt. But then... "Dahlia!" His voice felt familiar, like a warm blanket that wrapped around her from afar. She curled up in the couch, clinging to the phone, holding it as if it was a lifeline and she was lost at sea. "Finnian." "Are you okay? No one's heard anything from you for weeks, I've been-" "I'll do it" "What? But, Dahlia, you didn't-" "I'll do it." She repeated, the words a whisper that was met with a tense silence on the other end. "Are you sure?" His concern was touching, but she needed this. She needed him. In ways he would hopefully never have to know. "I'll marry you. One week. Make the arrangements." And before he could ask if she was sure again, she hung up on him. Her head tilted backward, sinking into the sofa pillows behind her. She imagined that water flooded her floors. That it rose, slowly but steadily, so she could sink into it. Peacefully letting it consume her, dragging her to the bottom to fill her lungs. In her mind, there was no pain. Only peace.