Weightless

23) Out Of Control

(1 day later) 22nd of June 2017

It's possible to run out of tears. You wouldn't have thought it - yet, Ethan has managed it.

It's impossible to cry, and it shouldn't be: his head should be throbbing; his heart should be aching; his throat should be exploding. But it's not.

Ethan can't cry. Not at all. Not even when he finds out that he's home. Not even then.

Bitter betrayal doesn't poison him. Guilt doesn't take residence. Dread doesn't sag his shoulders. Tears don't soak into his pillow. There's sweet nothing where there should be something. Like he's falling but the impact isn't coming. Not yet.

Nothing. All he feels is nothing. This new emptiness spreads his body - a poison that grasps his old emotions and squeezes the life out of them. An injection of numbness.

I should be hurting. I'm not hurting.

I can't even cry anymore.

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It's 10:00. There's conversation outside of Ethan's closed door. People are awake. If he squeezes his eyes closed, perhaps he can imagine that he's back at the hotel. There's no-one there to hurt. No-one who'll hurt him. Not that he'd feel the stab of that anyway.

The door opens suddenly. He keeps his eyes shut childishly. They're sore. Whoever opened the door doesn't say anything: they stand; they watch over him; they sigh a couple times; and then close it again softly.

"Still asleep." Mollie.

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It's been hours but Mollie still can't look at him, not even during breakfast. The clanging of spoons against ceramic bowls seemed to echo the flat. It was unbearably silent, so much so that she was grateful when it was over.

Neither have spoken. Not since yesterday, anyway. They're in the same flat but they feel far away.

Cal has been deep in thought for hours. So has she; the sort of pondering that has no finished result. There's no clear solution to any problem that they're facing. They just wait until Ethan wakes up, and they're both waiting for the fallout.

Mollie clears her voice. "So what now?"

Cal meets her eye. Then he can't. "I'll take care of him."

The exhausted heaving of the sigh Mollie releases is enough to tell him that she doesn't approve. They could easily argue. He could pick a fight, she'd definitely return it - but he doesn't. Cal rests back into his chair. So does Mollie, staring ahead over his shoulder. That signals the end of the conversation.

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11:02. Time is passing. Ethan can't lay there forever. It's apparent that the earth is going round, life hasn't stopped despite feeling like it has. He's still feigning sleep whenever the door opens again but the act is wearing thin.

He gets dressed. Seeing himself unclothed is never something he wants to last long and additionally, if anyone were to enter then they may be concerned by the healing gashes on his arms. That's something else that Ethan can imagine Cal crying or yelling over, and Mollie fussing about. He pulls on something with long sleeves, brushing past them, and wrongly enjoys the sting.

The door opens. It's like clockwork, as if they're taking it in turns to check on him. Ethan wonders who it is.

They close the door behind them. He's trapped.