Abyss

R-18

The night was uncomfortably silent, with only the distant hum of the city breaking the stillness. Gray’s anger seemed to permeate the air as he stormed into the room. His eyes, once warm and loving, were now cold and hard, reflecting a storm of turmoil.

I tried to meet his gaze, searching for some sign of the man I had once known. But instead, I was met with a look of frustration and anger that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Elina,” he said, his voice low and strained, “why can’t you just understand?”

His words were like a slap, coming out of nowhere. I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. I felt a deep, gnawing fear as he closed the distance between us.

Gray’s touch was rough, his hands gripping me with an intensity that felt almost punishing. I tried to pull away, but he was relentless. The anger in his movements was palpable, each touch a stark contrast to the gentle affection I once knew.

His breaths were harsh, and his eyes burned with a mixture of frustration and something darker. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” he muttered as he forced himself upon me. His actions were mechanical, driven by a raw, overpowering need that overshadowed any semblance of tenderness.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I bit my lip to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. The pain was overwhelming, both physical and emotional. I felt completely helpless, unable to escape from the brutal reality of what was happening.

Gray’s anger only seemed to grow as he continued, his movements becoming more frantic. His frustration was palpable, and each thrust felt like a punishment. The intimacy that had once been a shared experience of love had turned into something unrecognizable and cruel.

When it was over, He didn’t stay. He simply stood up, his expression unreadable, and walked out of the room without a word. The door slammed behind him, leaving me alone with my shattered emotions.

I collapsed onto the bed, the tears flowing freely now. My body shook with the intensity of my sobs. The silence of the room was now filled with the echoes of my anguish, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on me.

I felt utterly alone, my heart aching with the weight of betrayal. The person I had loved and trusted had become a source of profound pain, and I struggled to come to terms with the trauma of that night.

———

The relentless hum of the city outside seemed to echo the turmoil within me as I sat alone in the dim light of our old house. For the past two weeks, I had been living in this space—my space, the one I shared with Him before everything fell apart. But now, it felt like a place of refuge, a sanctuary away from the cold silence of the home we once shared together.

Gray hadn’t been home for two weeks. The empty bed and the untouched clothes in the closet were a constant reminder of his absence. Every night, I lay awake in the darkness, the echoes of our last confrontation replaying in my mind. His face, usually so warm and comforting, had become a mask of indifference and distance. I hadn’t understood why he had vanished or what had triggered such a profound shift in him, but I had learned not to expect answers anymore.

Work had become my escape, a place where I could bury my pain under a facade of professionalism. I immersed myself in tasks, striving to find normalcy amidst the chaos of my personal life. Yet, even at the office, the shadows of my broken home lingered, a constant reminder of what was lost.

Today, I sat in the small office of my old house, sorting through old photographs. Each picture was a painful reminder of happier times, a stark contrast to the fractured reality I now faced. The sound of my phone ringing broke the silence. I glanced at the screen—Keith.

I hesitated before answering. Keith had been a steadfast friend, but I hadn’t spoken to him much lately. I picked up, hoping for a distraction from my internal storm.

“Hey, Keith,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Hey, Eli,” he replied, his voice warm but tinged with hesitation. “How are you holding up?”

I forced a small smile. “I’m managing. It’s been rough, but I’m getting by. How about you?”

Keith’s silence on the other end of the line was heavy, and I could sense something weighing on him. Finally, he spoke up, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but it feels like the right time now.”

I leaned against the table, curiosity piqued. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well,” Keith began, “there’s this guy I’ve been interested in for a while. I’ve been trying to muster up the courage to tell him how I feel, but… he doesn’t feel the same way.”

I felt a pang of sympathy for him, the weight of my own pain making it hard to fully empathize. “I’m sorry to hear that, Keith. I know how hard it can be to open up and not have it reciprocated.”

He sighed, the sound filled with frustration and sadness. “Yeah, it’s tough. I thought I’d share it with you because you’ve been going through your own things, and I guess it felt right to talk about it.”

I could hear the strain in his voice, the underlying ache of rejection. I wanted to offer him comfort, but my own heartache made it difficult to focus on anything other than my own suffering.

“Thank you for telling me,” I said softly. “It means a lot that you trust me with this.”

There was a brief pause before Keith replied, his voice steadier. “I just wanted to reach out. Sometimes, sharing helps, even if it doesn’t make everything better.”

I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. “It does help. And I’m here for you, Keith. Even if things are rough for me right now.”

“Thanks, Eli. I appreciate it,” he said, his tone slightly lighter.

We ended the call, and I was left alone with my thoughts once more. The conversation with Keith had been a welcome distraction, but it also left me feeling even more isolated. The sadness in his voice mirrored my own, and the knowledge that he, too, was struggling made the world feel a little smaller.

The house felt colder in the wake of the call, the absence of Grayson’s presence more pronounced than ever. I tried to find solace in the mundane tasks of the day—cleaning, organizing, and trying to restore some semblance of normalcy. But every corner of this house reminded me of what was missing.

As I sat on the edge of the bed, my gaze fell on a framed photo of Grayson and me, taken during happier times. The image of his smiling face was a stark contrast to the man I had seen in recent days—distant and emotionally detached. I reached out, touching the frame as if it could bridge the gap between us.

The doorbell rang, jolting me from my reverie. I stood up, my heart racing with a mix of anticipation and dread. When I opened the door, I was met with a delivery person holding a small package. I took it from them, a sense of unease settling over me as I closed the door.

Sitting down with the package, I carefully opened it. Inside, I found a small box containing a letter and a set of keys. The letter was from Gray.

The words on the page were brief and devoid of emotion:

Eli,

These are the keys to the house. I won’t be coming back for a while. You can have the place, and I’ll handle things from my end. Take care.

—Grayson

I stared at the letter, my heart sinking further into despair. The finality of his words, the coldness with which he had severed the last ties between us, was almost too much to bear. The house that had once been a symbol of our shared life was now just another piece of a broken past.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I clutched the letter to my chest. I had hoped for some explanation, some sign of remorse or understanding. Instead, I was met with a chilling detachment that left me feeling utterly lost and abandoned.

I sank to the floor, the weight of the letter heavy in my hands. The realization hit me with full force: Gray had moved on, and I was left to pick up the pieces of a life that once held so much promise.

The emptiness of the house mirrored the emptiness within me, and I could only sit there, tears streaming down my face, feeling the crushing weight of solitude and confusion.

As the evening shadows lengthened and the room grew darker, I found myself grappling with the stark reality of our situation. The pain was sharp, almost unbearable, but I knew that I had to face it alone. The house was now just a hollow reminder of what had been lost, and as I prepared to leave it behind, I couldn’t help but wonder what the future held for me amidst the wreckage of my shattered heart.