she is his sun, brightening his days, giving him warmth. he doesn't remember a time when he was without her, and doubts he could make it anyway.

she is his world, his universe, he revolves around her. she's been there from the start and he's depended on her ever since.

they both have come a long way, each constantly going through their own changes and metamorphoses. soon they won't recognize each other at all.

his sun is losing her grip on him. all this time she has held him in place, she has kept him in orbit. but what about her? she is slowly but surely burning out and neither of them notice.

they are drifting and his sun is burning out. she is losing herself and he is losing her and they are losing a battle that no one could win. his sun is draining him and her and he can't help.

his sun is expanding, emotions are running rampant. she is not as she used to be, she has consumed him and left nothing but fragments of broken pieces in her wake. his sun has ruined him and is ruining her, too. she explodes. she is nothing more than a white dwarf of a girl, emitting what little light she has left before it disappears forever.

it is cold and dark. his sun is but a fragment of her former self and there is no way of getting her back.

They came again, last night – those women in black suit contrasting the sheet on my back.

One of them was holding a tray; the other was pushing a cart. All in all there were three women, one with a tray and one with a cart. The sight of the clattered metal made me shudder; the coldness crawled from my neck down to my spine. It was rusty and ****** and somber in that dimness of the endless corridor outside.

I, however, cannot tell those things inside the cart. I wouldn’t want to. No one will believe me. If I do so, they will hurl me in that room then wrap a cold, unfeeling machine round my head and fire indiscriminate gunshots. No. I will not. I cannot. They wouldn’t believe me. They will chain me, call me mad and electrify me while guaranteeing nonsense.

But it happened, really. It happened. They pushed my blanket down and my robe up, its edge touching the base of my chin. And it was very cold, and very rough, and very sharp, that metal the woman dragged on my chest, on my skin.

It was very rough.
And very cold.
And very sharp.

And she was too strong, the other woman in black. Her left hand covering my mouth I could barely breathe, her right keeping my arms at bay while she dragged the metal on my chest, creating this curve and that slice.

And my skin burned that kind of thin burning consuming not just a tree but the entire forest with all its silent secrets.