My Peace (Beautifully Broken 5)

I don’t know why I want to hear them.

I just do.

It’s a need at this point, as real to me as my need for heroin.

Slowly, methodically, throughout the day, I work my way through the boxes.

One

By

One

By

One.

I am focused on that.

No matter how the room spins, or the blackness threatens to overtake me, I continue.

I lost consciousness

Once

Twice

Three times.

When I wake, it is night.

Early evening, I think. The light is dying on the lake, in oranges and golds and ambers. I stare at it, watching it flit to and fro, and I put my hand on the window.

I loved this place once. I loved the views of the lake and the seclusion.

I can feel Mila here, even still. One of her pictures hangs on the wall, a breathtaking painting of the sun. It is an explosion of abstract vision, and I wish I was in the canvas, and away from here.

But I’m not.

And I only have a short way left to go.

I reach for the last box.

If I finish this, they’ll bring me the very last one.

It will be over.

I will have won.

Even if I die, I won.

28

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mila

It’s been twelve hours since Roger left.