❝ 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫
𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 ❞ | mature
Too many arguments too much tears, they foreseed how it will end. Their break up was a mutual agreement and so was what came after.
Six months afte...
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Her body felt ten times heavier; she felt as if she had completely sunk into the bed beneath her and imagined that once she finally manage to get up her figure would be etched into the mattress like a handprint in concrete. That's how heavy she felt and how incapable she had become— like she had to carry her body instead of it carrying her.
She no longer fell for her mind's tricks that tried to convince her she was home. She knew where she was, and Emily began to believe this would become the first place she thought of upon waking.
Right now, she kept her eyes shut, but she sensed the difference in her surroundings she knew she wasn't moved back to the basement, The room was lit; it was bright enough for her to notice even with her eyes closed, Emily could hear him and was too scared to open her eyes and face him. It was easier to pretend to be still asleep, but her back hurt, and her hip still ached, tingling with pain beneath the gauze covering it. Even the slightest movement of her fingers sent shots of pain through her body.
A small whine escaped her lips, and she suddenly felt his presence beside her. "Good, you're awake" he said, tracing her eyebrow with his finger.
Yes, she knew where she was, but she was still surprised. Her eyes widened, and before she could make another sound, her mouth was covered again. "Shhhh, calm down. Everything is okay" he pressed his palm to her lips. Emily's breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he sat at the edge of the bed, his hand pinning her in place and preventing her from moving away from him. "Everything's fine, do you understand?" he whispered. Emily nodded, exhaling softly as he removed his hand.
Frederic smiled as he stood up, smoothing his pants with his hands. He changed into a suit, wearing a white button-up shirt, and a red tie that matched the blood that used to stain his shirt's sleeves the night before. Emily noticed how different he looked this time. He didn't smell of alcohol and cigarettes; instead, he appeared well put together, as if he had abandoned his vices before leaving for work and was continuing his act of being a sane man, his deception. She let her eyes wander around the room. The room was illuminated solely by artificial light.
It was a spacious bedroom. The bed she lay on was in the center, with closed windows on her left side and a large closet on her right that extended to the closed door. In front of the bed was an old white makeup vanity with a mirror facing it. She was grateful her eyes were still blurry; she really didn't want to see how she looked. She followed his hand as he leaned to pick up a pitcher from the bedside table to pour water into a glass. Her eyes tried to focus on the picture frame in display, but he placed the pitcher right in front of it, blocking her view. Emily glanced at his watch instead; it was 6:30 in the morning, and she guessed he was preparing for work.
"Here, drink" he said, holding up the glass, but Emily remained motionless on the bed, her eyes examining the water. Frederic sighed and took a sip, as if to prove the water was drinkable.
