His To Possess

Oblivion

Eira

I am tired. Tired from everything. I feel like I no longer have a purpose in life. I am empty. Sometimes I catch myself wondering why the hell am I still wasting air. Maybe I should just end it all. 

Every time I wake up, I immediately start wishing going back to sleep. I like being unconscious, I like not to feel this emptiness every second of the day. 

I like the oblivion the sleep provides.

I don't know what time it is now. Late winter? Early spring? I remember Ronan forcing me to celebrate Christmas with everyone else, New Year too. I don't remember much - I made myself drink as much as I can, then pass out, making Ronan take me to the bedroom early, letting me enjoy my drugged sleep.

I don't see Ethan around anymore - most likely he and Ronan had a deal and there will be no war between the packs. At least there will be no bloodbath.

I miss those orange eyes. I miss Ethan's ease and calmness. I miss the darkness that seemed to cover him all the time, giving me strange comfort. I miss our late-night talks. Damn, I miss drinking with him.

And now he's gone.

I catch myself staring blankly at a wall again - my new habit. I make myself stand up and go to fill up the bath - the monster used me pretty harshly last night. I suppose he's not very happy with my unresponsiveness when he's molesting me. Well, my unresponsiveness in everything. He still sometimes grabs me in unexpected situations, wishing to take me by surprise, but he always gets the same outcome - blank stare, limp limbs, unmoving lips. The frustration in his eyes cheers me up a little every time - it's like I'm winning in his own game. At this thought, I can feel my lips forming a weak smile.

As the water runs, I sit near the tub and lean against it, wrapping my arms around my knees. I wonder what would he do if I ended myself - would he take it as an ultimate victory against me? Or maybe the opposite - would he feel like I won forever freeing myself from him? I guess I will never find out.

I stand and take off my nightgown, then get in the tub. The water is warm and comforting. It doesn't help.

I take a sponge and start rubbing my arms. The veins on my wrists are blue, clearly visible. The skin is so thin here... Maybe I should do it here and now. Take a razor blade and draw the painting of death on my skin. Sure, my body will try to heal itself, but if I...

No. Stop.

What would my father say?

My father. It's been a while since I thought of him. Shame washes all over me. I forgot my father. 

But I forgot about myself too. There's no 'me' anymore. I can't feel my wolf inside me, too. I just... exist now. And I have no strength to change that. I don't want to change that. I just don't care about it enough. Maybe I should. 

But I don't.

So I sit and start doing my favorite activity again - staring at the wall.

The water is cold now. Was I been here for that long? It felt like minutes. Probably been an hour. 

I step out, dry myself with the towel and make myself go to the first floor. No one is here but me. Good. I rummage through the cabinets in a living room and finally find what I came here for - a nice bottle of whiskey. I don't even grab a glass - the bottle will do.

I find myself back in the small studio I so very much like. The couch is comfortable and inviting. I sigh, sit down and open up a bottle. The sixth swig finally clouds up my mind and, most importantly, gives one thing that I need - oblivion.