AFTER GRACE| F I R E | ONE

31| Choices

An awful, pounding headache takes over my body the minute I wake up. The second I open my eyes, I feel a twisting nausea in my stomach, my mouth filled with an aching dryness. Squeezed in beside me is Damia, snoring so softly that it's kinda cute. I nudge her with my elbow until she finally rolls over, groaning.

"I feel like crap," I say, to which she giggles at.

"Sage, honey, it's called a hangover," she mutters, adjusting her pillow.

"Right, I know," I say, and get up in search of some water. I take a large bottle of water from the kitchen and gulp half of it down without stopping, gasping for breath. I take the rest back to my room and throw it over to Damia, which she gladly drinks.

"Last night was....interesting," I laugh, sitting back and burrowing my self in the duvets on the bed.

"Yes," she nodded. "I should feel bad for punching that guy, but I'm pretty proud of myself!"

I burst out in laughter, trying to picture Damia punching Ash again but my memory of it is all fuzzy.

"I better apologise to him later," I grin. "He's actually a nice guy."

The memory of us talking on the roof last night comes to me, and I find my lips twitching into a tiny smile. But it is replaced quickly by a frown when I remember what we talked about.

"What's wrong?" says Damia after minutes of me staring blankly at my palms.

"Oh, it's..." I trail off, look at her hesitantly. Should I tell her? She deserves to know. Clearly Dashiel will never tell her any time soon and he could be in danger, seeing  the mental state he is in at the moment. She is his sister.

"We need to talk about Dash," I finally say, gulping down the forming lump at the pit of my throat.

She sighs and sits up, not concerned at all. "I know you guys are in a fight, and he's acting up again. But trust me, he'll come around."

"No, Damia. He won't," I reply, a fierce, angry tone about my voice. This makes her look at me and furrow her brows, finally paying full attention. "It's more than that."

"Okay," she nods and squeezes my shoulder reassuringly.

So I begin. Somewhat from the very beginning when I first starting growing close to him. I mentioned the time at the abandoned playground and when I seen his tattoo saying "Grace" and how that triggered my curiosity to find out more about her. In the middle of the story, I somewhat relax, and everything just spills out of me. The hardest part is telling her about his depression and his suicide attempt, to which Damia gapes her mouth open and seems to loose her voice to speak. I tell her about Émilie, and the trial, and how he lost it. I tell her about the time at his apartment and our argument, and his constant vomiting from the alcohol which mingled with his anti-depression pills. I find myself crying towards the end, remembering how I ran out of the hotel as if it was millions of years ago now.

When I finish, we sit silent for a while until I turn to her and look at her stunned, tear-soaked face. She opens and closes her mouth, looks at her hands and up again.

"My Dashiel," she says, and then mutters words in French.

"Please, Damia. I don't know what else I could've done but told you about it. You need to find him," I tell her.

She gulps, shakes the tears away and then slowly nods.

"Oui,"she murmurs and then turns to me. "Where is he staying?"