Open Wounds | Captain Swan

20. Glass Half-Empty Much

[Woah, I updated. It's a bloody miracle. I know everyone probably forgot about this book, buuut thank you so much for the 3k votes on this story. It's unreal and there's no way in hell I deserve any of this.I wish I could thank everyone more than just this thank you. Anyway, guess who's meeting Sean Maguire tomorrow?!]

That night she had trouble sleeping. She was rolling over restlessly eighty percent of the time, and the other twenty she was checking her phone. Nothing was confirmed yet, but she couldn't help but be pessimistic about the situation as the tears never stopped streaming down her face.

If she would've been out on the street when she heard the news people would've stared at her with the weirdest face expression and avoided coming near her. Only an individual would've stopped and asked what was going on, but that was also up for debate.

Immediately after hearing the news on the television, she had phoned the police, even though her mind was still processing and far from functioning properly. The officer she had spoken with had advised her to keep calm and said no bodies were found yet and they were still investigating, so she should just stay at home and wait. But he warned her identifying a crippled body certainly proved to be difficult.

She felt like her trachea was narrowed. It felt like it would grow smaller with every breath she took until it would be closed off completely, but it refused to do the latter. It kept feeling excruciatingly painful, no matter what position she would lay in.

Her thoughts were all over the place, nothing seemed right. She tried to force her brain to persuade herself into believing in his return, but with no luck.

She kept seeing his lifeless body in front of her, lying in a perfectly made cask, ready to be burned. It didn't matter if she had her eyes opened or closed; the horrifying image no lover wishes to ever become reality was burned into her soul.

Eventually she decided it was enough. She had no idea what she could do in the middle of the night, but she was positive of one fact: everything was better than anticipating. She threw her legs over the edge of their bed, feeling her feet touch the soft comforter, which she had thrown of the bed only moments before.

Her body slowly adjusted to the transition from the warm bed to the cold air as she tip-toed through the corridor. The house was so quiet and looked so abandoned that it made her stomach twist. And by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs she felt like she was about to be sick.

She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled the entire glass with water quickly, before she could empty her stomach. She knew it wasn't a virus or something rotten she had eaten that caused her to feel a little bit under the weather. It was something that was far less easy fixable: the loss of a loved one. Or so she thought.

She was just drinking the water when the front door swinging open startled her. She dropped the glass and a million pieces were scattered across the kitchen floor, some cutting deep into her bare skin. She winched in pain, but refused to let it take over her mind. She needed to stay focused on whoever just came through the door.

She wasn't entirely sure whether to be scared that the person could be a burglar, or happy about the possibility that it could be Killian.

"Emma, is that you?" She almost fainted when she heard his voice echoing through the dark room. She needed to grab the counter with her left hand in order to prevent herself from collapsing as every turbid shape she could see in the darkness was turning.

"Bloody hell, Killian." She managed to whisper, even though her brain was still trying to comprehending what had just happened. When she had succeeded successfully, all she could do was meet his embrace. "Don't you dare do that again, ever." She intended to hit him with all the strength she had saved up in her body because of all the pain he had put her through, but she stopped eventually. She stopped partly because Killian held her wrists firmly and held them against his chest, but also because she remembered this was nothing compared to all the other things she did to him.

"I'm sorry, Swan." He attempted to comfort her by wrapping her arms around his mid-section, encouraging her to let her guard down and show her upset emotions. He actually wanted to say something else, but figured it would be better for her to hug him a little longer without interruptions.

When she let a long overdue sigh escape her throat, he loosened her grip on her waist. He cupped her face and glanced at the clock behind her, immediately knowing she hadn't slept yet. "But there is a certain bright side to this incident."

"And what's that?"

"Albert is dead." It felt like she was moved to an arctic zone and all the fresh blood in her body was frozen. She couldn't move or think clearly, but most importantly, her mind didn't seem to believe Killian.

"Are you certain?" She carefully asked. She hoped she hadn't offended him by being doubtful about his statement.

"Well, they haven't found a body yet," He grabbed her hand and guided her to the couch. They sat down without breaking eye contact as Emma was impatiently waiting for the rest of his sentence because he clearly wasn't done talking yet. "But I doubt he made it out of the explosion." He knew he should actually tell her the truth, and he wanted to, but something in his mind stopped him.

"Have you seen any horror movies?" She raised an eyebrow, fidgeting a bit on her chair as she clearly wasn't sitting in a comfortable position. He immediately noticed and pulled her onto his lap. "These guys don't stay dead, especially when you can't find a body."

"Wow, glass half-empty much." He laughed.

When her nerves were slightly calmed they settled in a comfortable position and Killian turned on 'Game of Thrones'. Even though she was a bit relaxed now, he knew she was nowhere near sleeping, and perhaps if she did find enough peace, she would certainly have a nightmare. And he didn't wish for that to happen.

It was almost morning and the sun was already appearing above the horizon and they were still watching the show. Emma had fallen asleep a couple of times, but Killian had woken her up when something excited was happening so she wouldn't miss any of it.

"I want a dragon." She said, looking at Killian through her eyelashes while her bags were getting worse with every passing minute. It pained him to see her like this, with a lack of sleep. He knew it was because she worried and overthought about too much. He just wished he knew how to help her.

"I think we can arrange that." He threw the grey blanket off his lap and wrapped it around Emma tightly, so it could keep her nice and warm until he returned.

He pecked her lips and before her mind had even processed all of the movements, he was gone.

It was only minutes later when her thinking was interrupted by a rather shy knock on the front door. She looked at the door with a suspicious look in her eyes, debating whether she should open it or not. It could be Albert, but it could also be something important. She eventually got up from the sofa, with a little bit of trouble and opened the door, but the person behind wasn't at all who she had expected.

[Who do you think is at the door? I know this chapter is rushed and all, but I'll try to do better next one!]