Once A Sweet Song

Real Life

Chapter 4

Throughout the whole car ride, Laure had an uncontrollable spasm. A twitch, more so. Her hands would suddenly shake and lift up slightly before returning as they were before. Her head would jerk to the side now and again, and she’d constantly mumble something to herself. No sound was uttered but her actions could have spoken for her for a year.

“Lau, you alright?” Damon asked, after noticing her odd convulsive movements for about ten minutes from the corner of his eyes.

Laure nodded, flashing him a quick smile, and grabbed the sides of her arms with both hands, an action someone would do if they were cold. She tucked her legs in and rested her head on her knees. Her head lolled as they took twists and turns whilst she stared out at the empty streets of New York with troubled eyes.

She knew she was seeing things. There were car lights shining everywhere around them; from the sides, the front and the back - they were everywhere. She heard faint screeching of tires. Every time this happened, she’d have a spasm to snap herself out of it along with squeezing her eyes shut.

They’re not there. There’s no one on the streets. Stop it.

“Hey,” he murmured softly while gently rubbing her shoulder, “We’re almost there.” He gave her a light squeeze of the shoulder before placing his hands back on the steering wheel.

The sky was beginning to lighten whilst we drove by the endless rows of lamp posts, illuminating the streets whilst the sky was still dark. It couldn’t have been later than five in the morning. She wondered how long she had been out for. She glances at the dashboard in front of the steering wheel.

06:21.

Hopefully it was still Tuesday morning. She has classes on Wednesday.

---

“Welcome home! Hey, on a serious note, when was the last time you were here?” Damon asked as he dropped his house keys on the kitchen counter. His apartment was in Manhattan - the rich bastard - in a high-end area with tall buildings and fancy security and whatnot. It was beautiful though, she had to admit. Very simple, classy and modern on the fourteenth floor of the twenty story building.

Laure shrugged as she trudged in on the cold marble floor in her bare feet. Damon set her heels down on the floor beside the door and put all her clothes down on the sofa. She was still wearing the hospital scrubs. She put her head in her hands and she stared at every dot of the marble counter after she sat down on the stool. Black dot. White dot. A cluster of grey dots. All the dots in the world couldn’t distract her from what was running through her head. It pained her.

It pained all those around her.

The dots soon faded and her memories played out as if it were a video, or a movie. It was her. She was staring at her reflection of three years ago. Her hair was a bright, luminous purple. She was dressed in sparkly and eye catching clothing. She was laughing, smiling... speaking. Laure had seen this before and quickly shook her head and diverted her thoughts. This wouldn’t end well if she carried on. She needed a distraction.

She needed it.

One small glance and she was out of the black stool. It squeaked as her weight left it. Damon spun around in time to catch her in his arms, where she pressed her lips against his. It took him a minute to register before closing his eyes, resting his one hand on her waist and the other tucked strands of blue hair behind her ears; his thumb gently caressing her cheekbone.

He pulls back and his voice barely a whisper, as if any louder would shatter everything around them.

“Is it back?”