Late that night, the bed had a cold, unsettling feeling to it: like there was ice next to me. The cold reminds me of Caroline, and I shiver. The memory of her is still fresh, still stinging from the pain. Thinking of her was the same as having a wide gash and pouring alcohol on it. I still could feel her presence in the room, like she was still there. Her voice sounded like fading bells in my head, and it felt like she was whispering in my ears softly. I cling onto my ears, squeezing my eyes shut.