Ashes to Desire
The world smelled of smoke and death.
I pushed myself up, my hands sinking into the crumbling earth, fingers brushing embers that still glowed faintly. My chest heaved as I sucked in air, each breath tasting of ash and fire. Fuck, everything hurt, my bones, my muscles, even my soul if there is such a thing.
This was the price of rebirth. A laugh escaped me, sharp and bitter. How many times have I done this now? Ten? Twenty? More? It didn’t matter. The pain never changed, and neither did the emptiness that followed.
Bab Populer