Sing me to sleep

Aftermath

Clasping my cheek, he repeats himself, teardrops running down his hollow cheeks. I stare gravely into his eyes; spirals of caramel - I don't even care that it's him, nothing can stop me now, not even some petty singer. He pants heavily, why is he so concerned? 'Get off me' I shrug his whining hands away from me. He shakes. As I attempt to resist his enlaced arms, his long wet eyelashes close and I manage to break free from his confinement and stand uprightly straight. Looking down the balcony, my downfall spins in front of me among the soaring heights that I am upon- I prepare. Allowing air to fill my lungs I brace myself, bending my knees. His weeping gets louder as he pronounces the words 'stop'. After this, all calamity would be axed and within the next few seconds I would be disconnected from the troubles that burden my depression. Now is the time: one...two..thr. From the corners of my wide eyes, speckles of black transpire, eventually blinding my vision.

Dim light pierces my eyesight. Is this what revolves of the hereafter? Mumbling chatter appears to be a hazy obscurity - obviously not. Overlooking, the dark shadows ascend over my small frame; my squinting eyes adjust to the obscure atmosphere. Feet visible in front of me, I find myself sprawled upon the white sheets of a double bed - my vision lurks and then I find her...wait what, why am I here? Whispers arise: 'she's awake', 'does she know what happened' 'she begged for it'. Beads of trepidation emerge from my scalp and saturate my balmy skin, teeth chattering. As they peer amongst themselves, my words manage to configure 'w-wha-t on Earth'. Recognising my agitation, they gradually manage to drag their feet out of the room without a mutter. Just when I convince myself that all have departed, I bury my face underneath the mellow of the silken quilt and attempt to make logic sense upon the past events; all that my memory can regain is his exclamations of agony. But if he really felt in those ways he most clearly showcased then what nerve brought him to hand me back over here - to them, the unwanted. As I fumble my fingers through the delicate sheets, replaying the memories retained, the thought of his troubled face remains plastered deep into my every reverie. As the dispiriting reality of the low chances of me seeing his face again daunts me, I sense fingertips upon the duvet. As confusion influences my emotions, I come to the hasty conclusion that it is 'Chen!'. 'Oh' they chuckle. 'So it's true then' the words escape from Abigail's lips. Vexation causes my words to reveal harshly. 'Can someone please tell me what the hell just happened and where exactly I am right now?' 'Well,' Amaara's voice heightened: 'From what was heard, after the scene with Amber and Sara, you ran a long away from us in the airport and managed to get yourself into a fit of tears.' 'Then' Abby interrupted, 'some guy found you near the edge of the balcony and caught you when you fainted.' As I Intake a breath of shock, they stare grimly, 'Well who did they say he was' I ask apprehensively. 'Well' Amaara scoffs, 'there's been some rumour going round that it was some kind of star, but we only saw some forty year old looking guy handing you in to Mrs Peterson.' Eh? 40 year old guy? I'm pretty sure I was sober when it all happened - I decide to go along with the flow. 'Yeah, sure it sounds like him, I briefly remember a middle aged dude.' I feel uneasy - I yearn for personal space. After moments of silence, Abigail's words escape. 'Listen Hana, about what happened earlier.' 'I don't wanna hear it' I bluntly reply. 'We just want you to know that we're here for you, and we know you're going through a difficult time right now and we're willing to make it up to you, for all we haven't done to stopping it from happening in the first place' 'Oh and just so you know' Amaara adds 'we're not on terms with both Sara and Amber - we've had enough of their ways.' They stand across from me, awaiting a response, yet I maintain my self regard by remaining silent. 'Oh and I forgot to tell you if you haven't already realised'. Abby states further, 'this is your room for the rest of the break, we just assumed you'd be happier on your own' my spirits enlighten. 'I don't know how you're going to take this but we're leaving now, spending the day at the war memorial - but you need to rest, okay?' I don't mind it, I need healing time to restore my health, mentally and physically. As they see me goodbye trudging out of the door, I wave my hand tepidly. When the door finally creeks shut, I support my weight out of the bed, grasping hold of the carci sweater that somehow had found itself sprawled onto the wooden chair parallel to me along with parts of my other belongings. Retrieving a bobble left on the dressing table, I cradle onto my chocolate hair plodding to the window. Swept away by the splendour of Seoul's stately scenery, i relish the view. Observing from the whopping height I am upon, I rejoice the pristine glass of the hotel building from across. Admiring the glistening of the immaculate edifice, something captures my attention; as I magnify my focus towards the window directly opposite, I identify a long-legged masculine figure symmetrically opposing me. Muscular arms crossed  beyond his torso, adjusting his black snapback as he acknowledges my recognition, he examines my movements. Chen had been watching over my shoulders, surveilling all that that time.