Devoid [Bruno Mars]

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fourteen

From the moment I dragged my things inside and shut the door behind me, I knew something was different. I didn't see anything different, the apartment looked exactly the same as it did several months ago. The red walls, the mahogany furniture and overstuffed sofas, the small flat-screen with VHS tapes and DVDs underneath it, the framed black and white pictures of flowers and other wild animals. The place was pretty big for a two bedroom. My mother made a decent amount of money with her work.

Still.

Something was different.

And I didn't run.

In the kitchen, everything appeared to be intact. I crept to the door of my bedroom.

I didn't know why I wasn't running. Maybe because of being held in by fear for such a long time my legs were tired.

The sky was cloudy, making my room gray-washed. The average bedroom furniture settled on the average tan carpet: a simple bed by the window, two dressers, a loveseat. I set my sketchbook on the nightstand, realizing it was still in my hand. I retreated, into the other bedroom that was even more unused than mine. My mother's. It mirrored mine with the exception of being smaller (I had the master's since it was rare that she came here) and the loveseat.

Nothing.

I checked the bathroom with the same result as the other two bedrooms. The whole place was lifeless of anything unusual and my human kicked in: it assured me that nothing was out of the ordinary and that I was safe and there was nothing to worry about. After throwing the clothes stored in my bags into the washing machine and changing into more comfortable ones I burrowed in bed. Underneath was cold and I shivered, listening to the hum of the refrigerator down the hall and the whirl of the washing machine.

My eyelids became weights. I had only four hours of sleep today and it took a toll on me. The darkness came quickly, and I fell into it without a bit of reluctance with the sound of rain pattering on the window.

“Adrian? Adrian?” 

My eyes opened to haze, heart ramming.

“Adrian please.”

I knew that voice. My eyes focused on brown ones, and I gasped, pushing away from him. “How'd you get in here?” I half-yelled.

“The door was unlocked.” He seemed shocked that I pushed him away. He had stood over me in my sleep, shaking me. Now he was rigid as he watched me, hands up as if unsure what to do. I curled, arms across my legs, hugging my knees to my chest, half my face in the pillow. I couldn't stop trembling from the debris of fear the dream left me. When I closed my eyes the words from it echoed, like wisps of uncurling dark shadows.

Bruno sat on the edge of my bed, slowly. He made his voice soft, so soft. “It's all right, Adrian. I'm here, I'm here.”

I rolled forward, on my stomach, holding back the sob that threatened to release. “Go,” was all I could force out, because the feeling clawed to my airway, down to the emptiness near my stomach and heart.

He moved closer, face desperate. “Dri.”  

Whatever I experienced, felt like something beyond a nightmare. “Shh. Adrian. You're okay, you're okay.” He didn't care anymore and pulled me into him, my back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, strong and safe. A shock went through me. I groaned, squeezed my eyes shut.

And he held me while I shattered. He held me together. And yet there was one piece that managed to break free from me, and it was replaced by an embarrassment that made me pull away from his arms when the strangled feeling left and move to the otherside of the bed. “How long have you been here?” I asked, throat raw, looking at the carpet.