The moonlight crept toward my throat. I could feel my pulse beating silver and exposed, my heart visible through translucent ribs. Seconds. I had seconds before I faded completely.
Who are you?
The question echoed in my skull. My reflection stared at me from the marble, waiting for an answer I didn't have.
I opened my mouth and the truth fell out, raw and desperate.
"I'm afraid."
The words hung in the air. Simple. Honest. The most real thing I'd said in years.
"I'm afraid," I said again, louder. "I'm afraid of being alone. Afraid of being worthless. Afraid that everyone who ever rejected me was right about what I am." My voice cracked. "I'm afraid that there's nothing underneath all the performance. That I'm exactly as empty as I feel."
The moonlight stopped spreading. Held steady at my collarbone.
