The low, guttural, pained moans of a wounded animal woke me from my slumber.
In my sleepy haze, I blearily registered that hot tears were falling from my eyes. Scalding my cheeks as they burned their way into my already sodden pillow.
The sounds that awoke me from my sleep, I realised, were coming from me. From my stomach that felt hollow except for a leaden lump of sadness, travelling to my chest that felt like I had been punched repeatedly till my ribs had cracked and I couldn't breathe. Those sad, pitiful, heartwrenching sounds made their way up and to my throat where they found a voice.
I was the wounded animal.
I stared out of the narrow slit of light that my black out blinds did not cover. Staring at what just a week ago, was his view.
Wiping my tears, the moans that turned to sobs in my conscious state, now slowed to whimpers.
I closed my eyes, and curled in a foetal ball, slowly let the flow of tears send me drifting off to sleep again.