'All my grief lies within,
And these external manners of lament are merely shadows,
To the unseen grief that swells with silence in my tortured soul.'
-- William Shakespeare
x x x
The water hugged her feet as she trembled, old tears cracking on her pale cheeks as new ones fell. The pain was horrible to say the least and the implications of a week ago would forever remain scared across her heart. She wished to forget, if that meant stopping the aching resonating in her chest. She whimpered. A sound that echoed pathetically throughout the lonely room—even to her own ears it sounded pitiful…and so she sobbed harder…blocking out her own thoughts as she leaned into the cold ivory tiles that lined the wall.
Her tremors increased as she wrapped her frail arms more tightly around her fragile, weak form. Even the warmness of the water rippling around her waist seem to reject her as she begged it to provide some kind of substitute for the heat of her lovers embrace.
He had lied.
So she cried.
She was seeking warmth but had fallen right through, feeling nothing but cold.
Just like now.
She shifted, her sweaty bangs still plastered to her face as a shaky hand fumbled with the tap. The water ran and she slumped back, her bi-colored orbs had faded, glazed over with the eternal burden of sadness. There would be many days like this, she figured. Seeking what was needed, only to never be found. The clear liquid engulfing her body had provided no relief, so she turned the faucets on harder, watching as it pounded relentlessly against the walls of the tub, pleading to it once again to make the chills running up and down her spine disappear.
But it seemed that she was the only one who didn't know it wasn't the water causing her shivers.
"Yuna, I'm sorry I couldn't show you Zanarkand."
"No, not until the end…always…"
"Do you wanna scream?"
"Just whistle and I'll come running…I promise."
"No way am I just gonna stand here and let Yuna go!"
The memories of those days spent with him were battering her mind relentlessly, playing repeatedly in an agonizing loop. She tore her hands from her sides and clamped them over her ears, convinced that that's how they were getting in. She did her best to will them away, rocking herself back and forth. She wanted the pain to stop.
Happiness nowadays only hurt, hence why she had stayed away from Spira's celebrations. Yes…seeing other people get what they wanted could only harm. Now that he was gone she realized that she would never be happy and the sad truth was, that no one could help…no one could make it stop…make her forget. She swallowed the lump in her throat, hard. She began crying again, the sleek salty liquid pouring from her eyes and into its indistinguishable counterpart that was currently right up past her chest.
Her eyes clenched shut as she bit her lip, trying to defeat pain with pain…but her mind persisted in its torturing reminiscence of her pilgrimage; the enticing and intoxicating feeling of his lips against hers as they floated comfortably, warmly in each others arms in the spring…the gentle brushing of her cheek with his palm. His gestures…his jokes…his voice…his entire personality…all gone, never to return.
Her vow of love for him…and his silence in response…
That had been the metaphorical stab through the heart…that's what was making her cold…depriving her of the warmth she craved so badly.
And she despised him for it.
"I hate you!" she screamed, her chest heaving from her heavy sobbing as more and more tears fell, the water toppling over the edge of the bath and crashing onto the tiled floor below. "I hate you…"
But she lied.
"I love you…"
And he had died.
"I love you…"
Because of that, she felt nothing but cold.
Just like now.