severance |ˈsev(ə)rəns| : (noun) the action of ending a connection or relationship.
In a flash she knew it all, felt it all. She didn’t shriek, she didn’t fling her fists against the door….All the fight went out of her. She sank to the floor, collapsed into a heap against the door, and that is where she stayed all night. The bare boards bit into her jutting bones, but she didn’t feel the pain. There was no fire and her nightdress was thin, but she didn’t feel cold. She felt nothing. She was broken.
When they came for her the next morning, she was deaf to the key in the lock, didn’t react when the opening door shunted her out of its way. Her eyes were dead, her skin bloodless. How cold she was. They carried her down the stairs as easily as if she was a feather pillow going to be aired. They could have been taking her anywhere and she’d not have fought them. She was lost. Absent from herself. She was nothing, she was no-one. It was just the shell of a person they took to the doctor’s house.
…It was no ordinary separation. Imagine surviving an earthquake. When you come to, you find the world unrecognizable. The horizon is in a different place. The sun has changed colour. Nothing remains of the terrain you know. As for you, you are alive. But it’s not the same living. It’s no wonder the survivors of such disasters so often wish they had perished with the others.
(People) were expecting them the same as they knew before, only separate. And so, initially, they were surprised by their collapse into a pair of lifeless rag-dolls. Not quite lifeless. The blood continued to circulate, sluggishly, in their veins. Their eyes, open during the day, were unseeing, and at night, though their eyes closed, they had no tranquility of sleep. They were apart; they were alone; they were in a kind of limbo. They were like amputees, only it was not a limb they were missing…. but their very souls.
a passage from “The Thirteenth Tale” by Dianne Setterfield