Taken Away

Chapter 5

The room is eerily quiet. I lay in my bed, my hands gripping the bed, ears straining to hear the faint breathing of Niall. Dancing shadows are splayed out across the walls of my room, the silver moonlight flitting daintily between the arms of the trees. Everything seemed strangely sharp and I felt utterly aware of everything detail of the room.

My unorganized desk, with all my utensils and papers scattered on its surface.

The blank bulletin board hanging solemnly on the wall, and my sudden urge to cover its bare, grainy skin.

A blue glow of my night light just beyond my bed.

The stack of books in the corner, books I couldn’t really read.

The paint can laying on its side by the wall.

The lump of blankets on the floor.

My mind is going haywire and I gradually start to realize what’s going on. With a small streak of determination, I force myself to stare upwards toward at the ceiling, but within seconds my eyes are scanning the room, and eventually landing on Niall. I have no idea if he’s sleeping or not, but I can’t risk getting up. My fingers itch and my head continues to pound.

“Screw this,” I say under my breath, sitting upright in my bed. For a few seconds,I sit there, waiting to see if the movement woke Niall. My body feels rigid and my eyes are squeezed tight as I count, listening to the rustle of trees outside and the steady breaths of the sleeping boy in my room. I can feel myself start to shake, my frame trembling as I get up and hurriedly weave through the maze of items on the floor and silently squeeze through the door. The hallway swims as I try to steady myself against the wall, desperately trudging towards the bathroom. My palms are sweaty as they find the door of the bathroom.

“Why is this happening now,” I growl quietly to myself, finger fumbling with the orange bottle. One hand shakes a pill onto the bathroom counter and the other fills a cup with water. Without a second thought, I pop the pill into my mouth and hurriedly drink the water, feeling both the pill and the cold liquid slide down my throat. Silently, I begin to count, my palms pressed against the granite, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I stared at the empty sink. Gradually, the nauseousness passes and my vision clears. Uncertain, I straighten and make my way back to the room. Just as I sit back on my bed, I hear a small voice, the Irish accent profound and filled with worry. 

“Rebel? What happened?”

I stare hard at the dark blob on the floor, trying to make out Niall’s face. Suddenly, he stands up and makes his way over to me. He looks at me expectantly, waiting for an answer, but I just stare back, unwilling to talk. His eyes are an electrifying blue and full of worry, but I refuse to look away, my earlier weakness now gone. He steps closer, and I struggle under his intense gaze.

“Tell me,” he says again, voice full of earnest.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I finally choke out, looking away. 

He sighs, and sits beside me. Before I can react, his arm is around my shoulders and he pulls me close so that my side is pressed against his. I glance up at him in surprise, but he’s looking away, and I can’t quite read his face. Its a mixture of uneasiness and a mellow sadness, and I notice that despite the sharp color of his eyes, the rest of his features are very soft and kind. We sit together, nothing but silence between us, yet I didn’t feel the need for any noise or conversation. A feeling of comfortableness and content settles around me, and for the first time in Ireland, I feel as though I’m at home.

Finally, Niall looks back at me and studies me intently, as though he were trying to solve a mystery that’s been puzzling him. I feel awkward under his gaze, and shift uneasily.