Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 40

‼️*TW: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MEMORIES OF SEXUAL TRAUMA/RAPE*‼️

The feeling of a pinching ache in my lower back brought me up over the ponderous waves of deep, boundless sleep, interrupted only by occasional fleeting, subconscious images, mostly consisting of running blindly through windy, grassy fields. In each concise, vague dream, I'd been sure of the fact that I was chasing after something, some place, or someone. I couldn't decide if it aided an overarching, despairing anxiety, or if it was tinged by an edge of freedom, of joy and security, the emerald blades and yellow blossoms whipping curiously in the breeze around me as I ran.

However, one detail that I remembered, one which troubled me for a reason I was unable to understand, was the appearance of the red rose bush I always tripped painfully over in the very end, the thorns jarring me and sucking me back down into a black stillness—but it wasn't the discomfort which disturbed me. Beneath the rose bush, in a scattered, unorganized group, grew a patch of wild violets, and in each recurring image, I noticed pointedly how choked and strangled those violets were by the wayward, angry rose thorns. But I couldn't interpret what the odd dreams might mean.

Probably just stress dreams.

Releasing a hefty sigh, I felt my arms and legs twitch as I flexed my joints, rolling out any cricks. The soreness in my back forced a strained huff from my throat when I turned gingerly onto my side from where I'd been splayed out on my stomach, which, strangely, cramped a bit, as well. I brought my knees to my chest and curled up to counter the uncomfortable arch, and the little pops in my spine made me feel like a decrepit old woman—it took me a moment to remember why I felt so stiff.

Blinking my eyes open, I peered through mildly blurry vision at the dark pillows and the dim gray light illuminating the room and casting shadows on the floor and furniture. I felt cold, but not necessarily physically—the blankets tucked around me made it impossible to suffer from morning shivers. But before anything could dawn on me, there was an inherent isolation in that bed, a bed which had so quickly become a haven and safeguard against nightmares or flashbacks for me. That isolation piled onto the cool sensation in my heart and mind. It was empty; I was alone.

Chrollo is gone.

I hardly wanted to move my reluctant body at the realization. Dull dissatisfaction settled around me, and my hand involuntarily clenched into a fist over the fluffy blankets, gripping them tighter to my chest, perhaps just to feel as though I were holding onto something while I laid there a bit longer. The room seemed desolate and echoey without his rich, soothing tones—my ears rang in the silence, and I could still feel the places he'd kissed on my body tingling lightly, a numb reminder of his touch, his strong arms around me.

My face was an emotionless deadpan as I shifted the blankets to peer down at my body, at the loose graphic tee I wore over a baggy pair of gray wooly sleep shorts, the clothes I'd put on after our shower. I couldn't decide if I was comforted or even more broken over his departure by the memory of the previous night and the way we'd spent it. The wisp of his gentle fingertips still lingered over mine, and the rough way he'd taken back control replayed in a series of emotions, a combination of lust and love and complete happiness now intertwined with the bleakness of loss, of vacancy.

I wish he was here.

I hated that he had to leave so early in the morning. But it was probably for the best—watching him leave would be even more painful. I suppose, it was really a mercy, and the lesser of two evils, a necessary desertedness. My body laid entirely still as I tried to recall a moment in my sleep when I might've awoken just for a groggy second to feel him against me, as if grasping for one more sensation, but there was none. I didn't remember any sort of hazy memory of him getting up from the bed or collecting his bags or kissing me one last time, which I was sure he had done. I felt the eerie quiet of the room down in my chest. I wanted him back already.