devoid love • tate langdon

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THOUGHTS

 This couldn't be happening again. It couldn't. I sat on my bed, slightly rocking back and forth as I stared at the wall in front of me. I was freaking out. I chewed on my nail, making it go to the stub. And once that one was gone, I switched to the others. This couldn't be happening again. It just couldn't. I wouldn't let it happen. I wasn't seeing things. That woman was there. Right? It didn't make sense but I knew she was there!

I used to see things. Hallucinations. Figments of my imaginations coming out to dance in front of me. I had to take medicine a while back before it settled down. Was it happening again? Was I seeing things that weren't real? Will I have to be pulled out of school for a month to be treated? No. I wouldn't let it happen. I felt a tear slid down my cheek and I wipe it away angrily. But I didn't stop when it is gone. I start to claw and scratch at my face furiously. I was surly going to draw blood.

I suddenly felt a strong hand pull mine down and hug me into his chest. I didn't even ask why Tate was in my room, I just hugged his as well. Burying my face. I cried into his shirt, making his flannel wet. He calmly rubbed my back until I settled down and when I did, I sat down on my bed. He sat next to me, giving me silent comfort until I could speak again. I could feel my face starting to hurt and I flinched. I wonder if there were any scratch marks. I sighed then turned to him.

"Thank you." I said, my voice just above a whisper. He gave a slight smile, placing a piece of hair behind my ear.

"What happened?" He said calmly. Should I tell him? What if he went to tell Ally? But I seemed to notice something different about him. I didn't think he would tell. So, I told him. How I keep hearing noises and groans. How I saw the woman with the nurses outfit. The entire time he kept on an emotionless face. Once I was done I was facing the wall again. I was afraid if I looked at him I would see it. See the flicker in his eye that everyone had when I admitted my stories to other people.

A spark in their eyes. A spark thinking that I was crazy. I was afraid to see it again. So afraid to see the spark. But I forced myself to look at him. Into his dark eyes. But when I looked there. There was no spark. No hint saying that he thought I was crazy. His eyes looked thoughtful rather than anything else. I gave a small smile. He didn't think I was crazy. My eyes watered even more at this.

"You don't think I'm crazy?" I whisper. He looked confused for a moment before his dark eyes softened.

"Of course not. I would never think you are crazy." He said, giving a slight smile. I return it and lean my head on his shoulder. I stare at the wall. For right now, all I felt was comfort. A sense of calm. He gently stroked the back of my hair, making me sigh. I felt safe.