C85

I close my eyes. Chant over and over in my head.

I’m not here.

This is not my body.

I’m on the moors in England like in one of the stupid historical romances I like to read. It’s stormy and loud and I can’t hear anything but the wind battering against the rocks. Yes, that’s it. It’s just the wind yanking at my body. Nothing more. Only the rain and wind howling in my ears