"That's all I need. 3 days. Give me 3." That's what I told someone, I still don't know who.
I mumble nonsensically to myself in the dark. The curtains are drawn shut, but slips of the afternoon light still sneak through. I hadn't slept all night. In fact, this might be the second night that I haven't slept.
I just lay on top of the covers, shivering and thinking. Like a broken record, my mind keeps replaying walking into my vanity and being met with a puddle of blood. And Marie... Marie who left me.
"She hated me. I can't believe it." It feels wrong to say it, but differentiating between thoughts and words is like sifting salt from sand. She didn't hate you, a rational part of my mind says. She felt guilt, too much shame to face you.
So she took the coward's way out, the devil on my shoulder hisses.
