The ice has broken. But I have fallen too far, dragged down into the chilling depths of the sea. It's over.
Something's different. My throat is dry, my head spins and the flat ground feels uneven beneath my feet. I can barely walk. I sit. Clinging to something. Clinging to anything that will hold me up, break my fall. But it's over. It's gone.
I can still here your voice. I can still feel your touch. Your beating heart echoes mine and yet it's not close. It's above the surface, above the thin sheet of glass that grows, stretches, meeting at the crack and forming a barrier between shadowy waters and the air. My heart is sore. I can't breathe. I cry. Tears that flow as freely as the monsoon rain. But the tears mean nothing. It's gone.
I felt someone shake me.
"Kaiya, wake up." The voice came again. I frowned, shifted. My body ached all over. I felt stiff, as though when I moved, I'd crack like a trampled Autumn leaf.
My eyelids opened, heavily, reluctantly. There he was, smiling. His face soft, his eyes calm. He touch was as smooth as the coast waves, as the mellow horizon, the painted sunset sky.
I closed my eyes again. Back. In the present. I wouldn't remember anymore. But the memories were too strong. Attacking me like knives.
Then a slap.
A hand stinging slap across the face.
Then the tears.
Then the sorries.
Then the heart-filled sobs.
The empty apologies.
Then more anger.
It's over. It's gone.