You're So Fragile

Chapter 10

Silence and stillness are everywhere. I think I went deaf overnight. I can see sunlight shining from the window and the shadow of the leaves on the big oak tree outside. But there is no noise. My body still aches a bit. I lift my hand up and press my thumb and middle finger together and release. Snap. So I haven't gone deaf. It's just unbelievably quiet. I lift myself off the bed and stand up, which is a big mistake.

"Fuck" I groan as all the blood rushes to my head and makes the pain in my head worse and the strain of lifting myself up increases the aching. I'm still in the clothes I was wearing last night. Last night. So much was said and done. I finally told him how I felt. How I feel all the time. I let some frustration out on him and it was a bit liberating for a moment. However, the look on his face. I can't get it out of my head. I feel like I showed him something he was too scared to see, or too scared to hear. It was like telling a kid that the monsters in their nightmares are real and watching the horror in their face as they realize the world will not be the same anymore.

I can't let you go. I won't let you go the way she did. The way they all did. Those words keep coming back to me. Was she, Lillian? If so, then who were they? His parents probably.

I look toward the door and see that it's been left slightly open, but I distinctly remember closing it when I came in here last night. He must have come in while I was sleeping. I open it further and walk into the hall. If I'm quiet enough, I could try to leave but something tells me not to. A voice in the back of my head warning me against it. I look around and see that the door to his room is cracked open as well. I silently walk toward his door and look through the small opening.

I have never seen the inside of his room before. It's bigger than mine and has a large, king sized bed. The walls are gray and contrast nicely with his satin, crimson red bed set. There's some pictures and drawings on his dresser but I can't make them out because they're too far away. He's sleeping in the clothes he was wearing last night too, except his sweater is lying on the floor. There's half a bottle of Jack Daniels on the bedside table. He must have got drunk after that scene outside. That would explain why he left both mine and his door opened. He's gonna wake up with a hangover, I think to myself.

I head downstairs by myself for the first time since I've been here and head straight for the kitchen. I grab three bottles of water and some advil and pepto bismol from the medicine cabinet; I drink a bottle, take a pill, and then I grab a few cookies we got at the store and head upstairs. I consider going straight into my room but again, that little voice in the back of my head stops me. I quietly creep into his room, careful to tread lightly and not make a floorboard creak, and leave the pepto bismol, the rest of the Advil, the cookies, and water, on the bedside table. I close the bottle of Jack and set it further away on the table. I step to turn away and go towards the door, but instead I look at him sleep.

It's strange looking at him for this long. Usually it's him staring at me while I try not to notice. It's easier to stare at him while he's sleeping. As long his eyes stay closed, I don't have to worry about losing myself. His shirt is ridden up just above his hip, revealing a lengthy scar. I have the urge to touch it but I act against it. His body is so still. He could easily be dead if it weren't for his chest barely moving up and down to signal he was alive. His face looks peaceful and rough at the same time. The scruff of facial hair makes him look tough and, in my opinion, more handsome for the way it brings out his jawline and enhances his features. I hover my hand over his face and act like I'm touching him. I really want to touch him, just to make sure he's real. To ensure that this is real and I'm not just having an out of body experience and the real me is still asleep in bed.

I keep my hand hovering over his face and continuously resist the temptation to touch his face. I'm like a child discovering something new. I get so lost in inspecting him that I forget everything that happened last night and how mad I should be at him. Then I hear a vibration on the floor and look straight to his sweater, the source of the vibration. Before I could even react I feel a powerful grip on my wrist and gasp in shock and fear.