Peculiar ♡ Alma Peregrine

Chapter Seventeen - Healing

Miss Peregrine's POV : 

I finished cooking breakfast and served it to the children before fixing myself and Juliette a plate. I went upstairs, careful to  not drop any of the food. As usual, the door to Juliette's room was locked, but I couldn't just let her go without food again. I had been very lenient with her feeling for three weeks, only making her take care of herself when it was very necessary... But if this went on for too long, there was no way it was going to end well.

I knocked on the door, balancing one of the plates on my arm. There was no sound behind the door, only the very faint breathing of the girl inside. I could tell she was really trying to stay silent, I could tell she wanted to be alone, but she had been alone so much for the entire three weeks since she woke up. She only really allowed me into the room, but even that was a rare occurrence. The children were worried about her, there was a gloomy feeling encasing the house. Everything was just going to crap. I knocked on the door again, a little firmer this time.

"Juliette, would you please let me in?" I asked, hoping that today was one of the days that she could talk to me - unlikely, but I had to have hope. I sighed with relief when her quiet footsteps padded across the floor, the lock clicked and she cracked the door open, allowing me to push the door open with my hip. She was already laying back on her bed when I was inside. Her hands were sitting on top of each other on her stomach and she was staring at the ceiling, obviously deep in thought as she looked up.

"I brought you some food," I said, placing the plate on her nightstand and sitting on the edge of her bed. I knew nothing about why she was like this, but I hoped today I could find out. My thoughts were squashed when she looked away from the ceiling and locked eyes with me - they were empty, no emotion present. It honestly scared me more than I'd like to admit. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and grabbed the plate of food I gave her, staring at it for a second before bursting into a fir of tears.

I moved closer to her instantly, setting both of our plates on her nightstand. I hadn't even heard her cry for the whole three weeks, let alone seen her begin to cry, so this took me by surprise. I held her, stroking her head and whispering to try and calm her down. I heard her sobbing apologies that were just barely intelligible. I assured her it was okay, I didn't even know what she was apologizing for... Was she apologizing for crying? Was she apologizing for acting like a zombie for the last three weeks. There was no need for apologies.

"It's okay, Juliette. Everything's okay." It wasn't okay, something was very wrong and there was nothing I could do to help her. 
"What's wrong? Please tell me what's wrong so I can help," I begged, closing my eyes. She tried to say something, but all that came out was the sound of her breathing in like she was suffocating - and it scared me more than most things could. It almost sounded like she was dying right there.
"I-I'm just s-so t-t-tired," she eventually managed to choke out through her sobs. Finally, I ripped my eyes open and looked down at her. 

She really did looked tired, there were heavy bags under her eyes and they kept fluttering shut before she snapped them back open. There was a look on her face, fragile and vulnerable. I could see right through the emotionless façade she'd been pulling up for three weeks - I could see every emotion she had been hiding from me and everyone who had managed to catch a glimpse of her. Just looking at her face made me want to run away and hide in a hole forever, but I couldn't leave her in her this kind of delicate state.

Our food had gone cold and I could hear the children standing behind the door, listening to the horrifying events unfolding behind the door. Listening to Juliette crying about whatever it was that was disturbing her, so much to the point she would stop eating, drinking and sleeping for prolonged periods. I felt I had a faint idea of what was troubling her, but I didn't want to assume. What if I tried to help and just made things worse? That most definitely wouldn't be helpful to the situation. I rocked back and forth, Juliette trembling and wailing in my arms.