you led my heart {dreamnotfound}

fifteen.

Oml literally what the fuck we are already at 3k reads?? Thank you guys so much, just yesterday I hit 2k and now this.

THIS IS THE STAGES OF GRIEF SERIES!!
This chapter will just be about reassurance and comfort. The next chapter will be grief then anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. And no acceptance will not be the last chapter haha, I plan on extending this book to its fullest, I might even make a sequel if I feel motivated enough ;)

So without further adieu...
I present to you,
Stages of Grief.

~~

There was blood on my hands. I scrubbed until my skin was red and raw, but it kept pooling inside my palms. I needed it to stop. I needed to get help. He needed to get help. But my body was weak. Numb.  I could barely take a full breath.
I woke up.

~~

He woke up, his skin clammy, the bitter taste of nausea in his throat. Rays of sun blasted through the gaps of his curtains, a harsh reminder.
Last night happened.

A siren wailed in the distance. Other sirens joined in soon after, dozens of them coming from different directions. Long and mournful. Jagged and staccato. It had seemed like they had went on forever, fading away and getting louder again.

Clay hadn't necessarily minded the background noise though, yet his chest was heavy with dread. It felt as if ants were skittering down his arm and legs. He looked beside him. To the boy. The sound asleep boy. The boy who would most likely be traumatized the rest of his life. What if he would now fear away from Clay? You couldn't blame him. Clay had felt the same way, for years, after the incident.

The house was so quiet you could hear the walls settling, along with the accompanying of George's soft breathes. A reminder. A reminder that they were okay. Possibly not mentally, but physically.

~~

It had been around eleven in the morning when the two had awoken from their nap. But for Clay, that night was barely filled with sleep. He jolted awake at any and every sound, real or in his head. His gaze kept finding its way to the one beside him. He would always catch himself watching them for what felt to be hours, quietly monitoring their breathing.
Up
Down
Pause.
Up
Down
Pause.
Clay had repeated to himself. He studied the breathing pattern, memorizing each and every breath the individual took. Whenever it had been a beat off anxiety would bubble up in his chest, his pupils would dilate, his breathe would as well hitch. The altercations would cause a slight sweat to break out on his forehead, traveling down to his chest. It was suffocating. He felt as if he were being choked. His body would go numb, moments later starting to itch.  That itch would be the death of him, he had told himself every so often.

~~

Around seven he had given up on tossing and turning and parted the curtains, the pale yellow sunlight a welcoming presence at first. But his throat tightened as his eyes adjusted to the light. There had been a note taped to the outside of the window.

A chill ran down his spine as he threw on a pair of grey sweats and a green block hoodie. He gave George a soft and passionate kiss before silently stepping out of the room.

He wandered down the corridors of the residence, avoiding any creak that may be in the floor boards. Once to the entry door, he slowly opened it. A cool breeze almost immediately hit his face, along with the scent of fresh rain.