BROKEN BEASTS | COMPLETED

03

03
"The sun's gonna rise tomorrow."

The days had crawled by, slowly as they could. Issie was softer than she usually was. Quieter too. It was quite unnerving for him. She only crawled out of the bed to eat, sometimes barely for that either.

Raphael didn't know how to help her. He didn't know how else to tell her that everything was going to be okay. Mostly, because he didn't  know if everything would be okay. He couldn't lie to her. He couldn't reveal the truth that he was actually as petrified as she was.

There he stood, by the window, counting the stars before they could twinkle away from his sight. She was curled up into the same ball that she'd been in for the last twelve hours. Five stars. She rarely spoke. The most he ever heard were the sad muffles of her trying to fit herself under the covers. He usually stayed with her until she fell asleep, then he'd collapse on the sofa, barely touching his dreamland.

"The sun's gonna rise tomorrow." He repeated, more firmly this time.

Was he trying to comfort her or himself, this time?

Raphael stifled a yawn, failing to keep it quiet. The late nights and the early mornings were finally getting to him. The bedroom window faced the path from where they entered the cabin. Fortunately, over the past days, their footsteps had been covered by fallen leaves, and he wondered how long it would take for them to find her. Even her father was largely unaware of their whereabouts – he just knew that Issie was safe and sound. Raphael was about to give more details but her father stopped him, implying that the conversation could be recorded. Later that day, he threw the old Nokia phone in a nearby river, known for having fishes that would eat absolutely anything.

Boof-boof. He heard the quiet pat of the bed, and turned around to see that Issie had shifted herself over, laying on the right side of the bed, instead of her usual middle position. The duvet was open slightly, her thighs were slightly exposed, but she managed to use the duvet to cover them.

"Come." Her voice was soft, and Raphael had to think twice if he even heard it. When he didn't move, she moved over a bit more to make her point. "You're tired. Come here."

That was the most that he'd heard her say today. He hesitated. "I'll sleep on the sofa. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It'll make me feel safe." She paused, then cleared her throat. "Plus, I've seen how uncomfortable you are when you sleep on it."

Raphael exercised his neck. She was right, the sofa was bumpy and often caused him backache in the mornings. He slipped his shoes off, and chucked them at the corner of the room. They landed clumsily on top of each other, clearly showing the dark scuff marks on his trainers. He slipped inside the duvet, and made sure that the duvet covered her completely. He didn't mind, he only needed a pillow to lay his head on.

She turned away from him, hoping that facing away from his body would stop her from thinking. Her tired eyes focused on the rug instead, how the different shades of grey and black soon merged into one tight spiral. She wondered whether her mother would be found, and with all the hope in her heart and soul, she was hoping that her mother would be found alive.

She closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would find its way to her but instead, she was swallowed by the many thoughts that eventually drowned her to sleep. She hunched over into a foetal position, not realising that her top had risen to expose half of her back.

He couldn't help but stare at the intricate lines that wrapped themselves over her back. The lines almost reminded him of stitches, as if they'd been tattooed onto her skin from birth. He stopped himself from tracing over the lines with his fingertips, stopped himself from wondering where they began and where they ended.