~Close your eyes and picture the warmth of the sun on your skin... that's how being loved by her felt~
Harry Styles is a nepotism baby turned new father, left clueless with a newborn baby to raise, he is overwhelmed and under pressure. Matters are...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I lay in bed at night and I think.
I can hear the girls breathing softly in their sleep on the other side of the room. One on the top bunk and one soundly on the bottom and still, I think about things that drown my mind in sorrow.
I think about if I got that family on table twelve their ketchup like they asked three days ago.
I think about whether I locked the back door when I came in from the treehouse.
I think about if I am missing out on important parts of the girls' lives by being at work constantly.
I think about if I am truly giving them everything that I could be giving them. If I am doing enough to give them the life that they deserve.
Sometimes the sound of their breathing can mellow out the dark thoughts inside of my head that rob me of my sleep. Just knowing that they are blissfully wrapped up in their own little worlds of dreams is enough but right now, it's not.
Right now, I am a jittering mess that is pinching at her skin repetitively in the hopes it will lasso her back to reality.
"Come on, Sunday." I whisper to myself desperately starting a new sequence back up.
This goes on for about an hour, laying flat on my back while my breathing strains and my heart rate speeds up. my eyes start watering on their own accord although I don't want to start crying now. The intense weight of it becomes almost overbearing to the point where I wish I could scream.
Everything feels wrong right now.
The way my hair has fallen around my face on the pillow. The way that the duvet cover is touching me. The way that my oversized T-shirt I stole from Roe to sleep in feels like it is suffocating me.
Everything feels wrong.
If I could crawl out of my own skin, I would.
It feels like it's too tight, like I am being held captive inside of myself and all the while, I am itching to get let out.
My legs thrash about under the duvet, searching for a position that makes me want to peel my skin off a little less than before.
It doesn't work.
Fully crying now, I clamp my hand over my mouth. The only way that I know how to keep my sobs quiet and not wake the girls up is to sink my teeth deep into the flesh on my hand.
Eyes pinched shut and shooting pain radiating from my hand where my teeth dig into my skin.
"Please?" I mutter through my teeth to the ceiling.
I am not sure what or who I am pleading with... myself maybe?
Throwing the duvet cover off me, I swing my feet off of the bed and onto the cold floor of the house. My toes freeze but I push through, grab my phone off the nightstand and race from the edge of the bed to my bedroom door.
