Page 48 of Bonepetal
I stand slow. My knees are bruised, my thighs tender. Throat sporting faint teeth marks only I’ll notice. But my palm still bears the scar of the binding. The mangled raised flesh fading to a dull pink now and my wrists are still sporting the purple marks from the cuffs on the alter, though slowly fading to a pale yellow.
Healing.
The body is honest if you let it be. Today it files last night under done, classified, never to be spoken about again and lets me move.
So, for once, I listen and begin my morning ritual.
Kettle on. Coffee scooped with a thrifted sterling silver spoon that’s dented but still beautiful.
Brew, pour, and breathe.
It smells like being a person and not a problem. For a second, that’s all I am.
The bone knife is under the sink in a dish towel where I left it when I got home last night. I pretend I don’t feel it there. But truthfully, I can feel it pulsing in my temples.
Like somehow it’s in my blood.
My phone lights up, and I pick it up.
Jamie (2:12 AM)
[photo—witch hat sideways, mascara raccoon-thick, five girls mid–keg stand, chaos]
Miles
u alive?
Me
alive, yes. hiding today. gonna cocoon + do house goblin chores.
Miles
good. i’m so hungover i might sleep till next halloween
Me
in my defense i told u to stop after, what, your 6th shot?
Miles
we are NOT litigating last night. i was vibing. let me die. going back to bed—will text when looking at my phone isn’t knives-in-my-eyeballs
Me
hydrate, gremlin. text me when your corneas chill
The carafe hits that full pot mark.
I set my phone down, grab my pumpkin shaped mug, and pour.
First sip burns my tongue a little but I don’t mind. The heat moves through me in a slow line and everything inside unclenches half an inch.
My phone buzzes on the counter again.
Miles
u left ur hat in my car
