Family line

1

At about 5 in the morning, Eloise's alarm buzzed loudly, shattering the silence in her small, dimly lit room. The light outside barely touched her window, creating a faint glow but not enough to chase away the shadows. Startled awake, she took a deep breath, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling her back to sleep, but she forced herself to sit up. Her head felt heavy, and she rubbed her eyes, blinking away the fog of sleep. As she sat there for a moment, she let out a long sigh, the first of many to come.

Dragging herself out of bed, Eloise shuffled toward the bathroom, her feet dragging against the cold floor. She flicked on the light, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. Opening the medicine cabinet with a creak, she reached for her bottle of antidepressants. Her fingers brushed against the other bottles and items cluttering the shelf, but she ignored them, focusing on the one bottle she needed. She set it down, grabbed a plain, slightly chipped cup from the sink, and filled it with water. The cold water felt like it cut through the numbness as she swallowed the pills, her throat tightening briefly before they went down.

She then moved to the shower, turning the water on and waiting until it was warm enough. Stepping in, she let the hot water pour over her head, running down her shoulders and back. The warmth usually felt comforting, but today she just stood there, her mind wandering, eyes unfocused. She watched droplets slide down her arms and felt the heat against her skin, but it was like she wasn't fully there, as if she were observing herself from a distance.

After what felt like an eternity, Eloise forced herself out of the shower. She wrapped a towel around herself and stood for a moment, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes looked tired, shadows clinging to the corners, and her hair clung wetly to her face. She turned away, quickly drying off and putting on her clothes, which felt stiff against her skin. She grabbed her bag, which sat lazily beside her bed, the zipper half-open, exposing a tangle of items inside.

Before heading out of her room, she returned to the bathroom, snatched up the bottle of antidepressants, and tossed them into her bag. She then went to the living room, where her chef uniform was draped over a chair. Carefully folding it, she shoved it into her backpack as well, feeling the rough fabric against her fingers. It was just another item to carry, another task to complete.

Eloise glanced at her phone, checking the time: she had just enough to make it to the train station. She grabbed her earphones, lying tangled next to her phone, and quickly stuffed them into her pocket. Next to them were her train pass and car keys, and she grabbed those too, her movements almost automatic at this point. The pass joined her other belongings in the backpack, which was getting heavier by the minute.

She pulled on her jacket and stepped out, locking the door behind her with a faint click. The cold New York morning greeted her, biting at her cheeks and ears, but she didn't mind. If anything, the cold woke her up, made her feel a little more present. Her breath came out in faint puffs as she walked slowly to her car, savoring the chill that cut through her clothes and brushed against her skin.

Once she reached her car, she slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. The familiar hum filled the air, and she switched on the air conditioning, keeping it on the coldest setting. Most people would crank up the heat, but not Eloise – she liked the cold. It felt honest. She drove through the still-dark streets, the city just beginning to wake up, lights flickering on in distant windows.

When she arrived at the train station, Eloise found a spot in the parking lot, turned off the engine, and sat there for a moment, the silence wrapping around her like a blanket. She double-checked her bag for the train pass, fingers brushing past the rough fabric of her chef's uniform and the cold plastic of the pill bottle. Satisfied, she got out and made her way into the station.