Chapter 43: Dark as the Seafloor

In the following weeks, Maritza wasn't the same. The blank, absent expression never left her face, and along with looking pale, she had lost fifteen pounds. Ronan had tried talking to her but it was to no avail, and he'd given her plenty of space to process her near-death experience, though he couldn't hide his concern any longer.

Maritza was in her usual spot in their bedroom, sitting in front of the vanity mirror shaped like an opened seashell, staring at her own white face. The plate of grilled fish and green beans that Ronan had left beside her for dinner the previous night was still right where he had set it down, untouched, and beginning to stink from remaining out all night. Ronan's nose scrunched and he removed the plate, set it aside, and tripped on an empty rum bottle at the feet of Maritza's chair.

He never saw her eat, and the only movements he ever did witness were when she poured a stiff drink and occasionally sipped at it. Ronan's heart sank, and he couldn't remember