Dancing on broken glass

2

John woke up early after a sleepless night and rolled onto his bed with a heavy sigh. He groaned as his sleepy eyes landed on the clock next to his bed. 4:30. Fuck. He knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep so he just got up.

He made his way downstairs and his naked feet padded into the kitchen where he made himself some breakfast even though he wasn't feeling hungry at all.

He ended up eating only half of his porridge and went back upstairs, feeling in need of a hot shower. He needed to clear his head, get his mind off things. The day ahead of him would be enough stress for the next decade or so.

He was about to walk past Missy's door, but stopped when he heard a muffled sound emerge from the room. He stepped closer and pressed his ear against the door, wondering whether Missy was up or not. When he heard the sound again, he took a step back in confusion. He hadn't accepted her to be up so soon. His eyes lingered on the door handle for a few seconds before he walked past her door, deciding to ignore it for now. She shouldn't get used to being comforted by him every single night or at least that's what he told himself.

But deep down he knew it was wrong to just let her suffer on her own and so he cursed under his breath while he went to retrieve the key to the door. He returned and tried to fit the key into the hole but the darkness of the dimly lit hallway made it almost impossible to see what he was doing.

When he finally opened the door, he saw Missy sitting on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest. Missy looked clearly startled and her shaking hands did a poor job of trying to wipe away the tears, not wanting him to see that she had been weak.

"Good morning," he said and locked the door behind him. He knew it wasn't necessary, but better safe than sorry.

"Morning," she said without looking at him and he sat down on the chair next to her bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, knowing the answer by the look of her face.

"Oh, this is heaven for me, doctor," she said and it was a good sign that she was still able to be her sarcastic self, despite the current situation.

"And now the honest answer," he said, smiling softly.

"Like shit," she said and started picking at the split ends of the brown mess of hair.

"My head hurts, my eyes burn and I need some kind of alcohol," she said and he felt sorry for what Missy was going through, but she was at fault. He wanted to take away her pain, make it better but he knew he couldn't do that. She had to do it herself.

"So how is this going to work?" she asked, wanting to know what exactly she was in for.

"I took the next six weeks off work. I hope you'll be through the worst by then, if not I'll take off longer. We're both in this," he said, trying to take her hand but she backed away, clearly still being pissed at him.

"As if you're in this, too. I'm the one suffering," she said and he decided to not start a fight now.

"No alcohol for you. We'll talk once a day about what happened. Therapy you might call it. If I realize you're holding back or using our friendship to your advantage, I'll send you to a professional friend of mine. We'll do lots of talking the next few weeks, months, maybe even years. Once you get more stable, we'll search for something you can do but for now let's focus on that," he said and she nodded slightly.

"I'm going to ask you again... Please give me your phone," he said and saw a moment of hesitation in Missy's eyes before she handed it over without a single complaint. He stuffed it into his pockets and thanked her quietly.