Lost And More Importantly, Loved

Chapter 4

Stella

Axel leaves slowly but hesitantly, with a face of puzzlement and my insides swell with relief as I shut the door close. I let out a long-awaited exhale and make my way to the bathroom. The bathroom mirror is steamed up, which means my sister, Elle, had been here – a simple detour to her busy life. Last winter she had promised she would make more effort to be present in my life but she hasn't completely fulfilled that promise of hers. I don't know what she's trying - by leaving behind traces of her presence behind – Is she even trying at all?

I reach for the packet of cosmetic cotton pads on the shelf next to the mirror, take a few and put it in back on its place. I gently wipe the mess of my eyeliner bit, by bit off from my face. As I wipe, my mind starts to shift, the pace of my wipes slows down. Time slows down. A sharp ringing sound shoots through my head and I let out a scream, shutting my eyes for a moment. When I open them, my hands begin to shake so I grip the edge of the bathroom sink.

When I look up into the mirror again, I see a shadow of something standing right behind me. Someone. My eyes trail along the lines of the silhouette of this someone. It looked familiar. Too familiar. And it's crazy how my mind recognizes the shape.

Someone steps out of its shadow and my eyes widen in a mixture of astonishment and confusion. A lump forms in my throat as I see Callum emerge from the shadow. He was wearing the dark blue and white checker shirt he wore on one of our dates, the one with the coffee stain on – which he apologized for but didn't have to. He studied my face intently and looked down at his chest. I turned around and saw how the strings of his heart and mine were knotted – tangled – his eyes were teary and just with a glance at them I digested how much pain there was stored in those hazel brown orbs.

This pain was threatening to the both of us and the utterance of hearing his voice again shook every part of me.

"I'm right here..." He says softly, cupping my face and then gazing his thumb affectionately against my cheek.

I wipe my eyes to refocus with the belief that this cannot be real. But it sure as hell felt like it, "I miss you..." I say, as my heart pounds a bit faster and I cling to him with the intention of never letting go.

More knots begin form.

"I miss you too...'' He replied, preparing a 'but'. "But I have to do this.'' Motioning a scissor to my attention.

"No... Please. We can untangle these knots together. See...?'' I manage to show him my efforts but they are no use. Wounds form on my hands instantly while blood spews out, but I push through. I keep going and he begs me to stop.

"No. You see... The knots will loosen, you just need to give it some time. Let me keep trying.''

"STOP! Please!'' He demands, shakily looking at the blood on my hands.

"I'm sorry Stella...'' His voice cracks when he says my name. He says my name in completion to what he might regret doing. He says my name like it's some weight that holds over him and rolls off his tongue as if it were his last breath.

He then holds the scissor up to the knots that connect us - which he had kept in his right hand, firmly with a fixed decision.

"Callum... Please, don't do this.''

With no reply, he cuts the string and my chest fires up and burns every last hope. He disappears. The impact and pain struck in a jarring manner, my entire body suffers this consequence taking a huge blow all at once and trembles at the realization of his absence. My hands inflame with the loss of his touch. I cave in to all the affliction holding my hands to my chest, collapsing to the bathroom floor.

His embrace was something I wasn't getting back and as much as the essence of my soul wanted him with me, my heart spared no effort in believing what my mind already knew. He's gone. And he wasn't coming back.

The ghost of Callum haunts me once again. And everytime it happens, I go through the flipping memory of him – sometimes blaming myself for my knots. Sometimes thinking that maybe my knots were the reason he had left in the first place.

Sure, he had his knots too. So was this just a right person, wrong time situation I found myself spiraling in? Finding reason to all this chaos just makes my head hurt.

There is never that clarity. Never when you need it.

I get up from the floor, struggling to collect my energy to do so. I go straight to my bedroom letting all of me fall into the soft and cushiony bedding. I stay there for a while, with no movement whatsoever. And the feeling of brokenness, emptiness and hopelessness fill the cracks of my heart.

He's gone, I try to tell myself.

He's gone, I try to say out loud.

"Stella!" I hear a voice call. God, I have had enough with all these voices and hallucinations for the rest of my life.

"Stella!" My sister barges in my room unexpectedly.

"Elle?''

She takes one look at my face and then she knows.

"Again?'' She asks, placing herself comfortably on my bed.

"Where were you? I thought you'd go MIA again?'' I respond, wiping my eyes and changing the subject to take her full on.

"I'm sorry... I went to get some groceries and wanted to make some supper-"

That's all she ever does. Apologize and play victim. Is this her trying?

The sincerity in her eyes softens me for a moment and although anger towards her remains, a wave of guilt crashes into me when I see her actually trying to be here.

"Are knots formed or made?'' I say once again, changing the subject because my mind is all over the place.

She gives a look of perplexity and I realize my vagueness to the term knots.

"Knots as in trauma.'' I say in hope of her understanding.

Her earnest reply baffles me.

"Knots are formed. Reactions to those knots are made.''