Her body broken by the rocks below and swallowed by the angry sea had a certain appeal. Her spirit was already broken, why not her body, her soul? She could not count how often those thoughts had come to her; a certain way to end her pain. And yet she embraced that pain, much like she was the thick wool covering her shoulders that did nothing to warm her.
She knew he was never coming. She felt it deep in her soul; the ache that never quite went away. She stood on the hill overlooking the sea. The waves were rough and white capped, roaring in, and crashing against the rocks below. The wind whipped her loose hair around her head like an unruly coil of snakes. She tightened the plaid around her shoulders, even while knowing nothing could keep the cold outside from seeping through to her skin and meeting with the cold that she felt in her core.
There were no tears left. She had shed them all. It made her feel emptier knowing that. She held out hope for weeks that he would return to her. The sympathetic stares of those in the household only gave her the strength to never give up on Patrick. He had promised. He would keep his word. Those weeks had turned into months. The months had now turned into a full year. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but a day came when she just knew. She felt the sharp pain of that loss. It was as though she had been run through with an unused and dull knife, tearing and rending her flesh. The pain made her nauseated. She had been sick for days, confining herself to her room.