Ophiuchus

After

As autumn gives way to winter, the air grows colder, the sky bleeker and the trees naked with shame. It's early December. Christmas is around the corner, followed by half term exams and holiday. Camille buries herself in books, but retains nothing. She writes down formulas and equations over and over again, but can't remember a single one. She wants to beat her head into a wall, but it seems her studies are already doing that for her.

In a few days time, Matthew will return home. He'd been in the hospital a good week after the accident, but after he'd been released, he asked that he might go stay with Uncle Moritz in Munich. He's yet to speak to Camille after their fight.

The morning Matthew was due to return, Camille woke up as her entire body was exacting revenge on her. She could feel her stomach churn, and nausea was making its way up her throat. She turned onto her side and tried to focus on taking deep breaths, but before she knew it, she was sprinting into the bathroom down the hall.

Her head spun as she picked it back up from the porcelain bowl of the toilet. She tried to steady herself, but found herself vomiting into the toilet again.

Her entire body shook with cold shivers. She sat on the cold tile floor with her back against the wall. Everything felt heavier. Her lips were chapped, her mouth dry, and her eyes were heavy with sleep. She's tempted just to curl up on the bathroom floor, but she pulls herself up and forces herself back to her room.

She wipes her nose on her sleeve and falls back into bed. This was the third morning in a row that she'd been sick as soon as she'd woken up. She'd been having a hard time sleeping lately. Her mind found it hard to rest with her thoughts constantly running between all the fighting with Matthew and the night that Ian Kohler had attacked her. She hated how quiet her room got at night when she'd been trying to fall asleep. Silence gave her time to think, and she often caught herself falling into a dark web of thoughts. She'd close her eyes and see the dark shadows under Matthew's eyes, she'd picture him sinking, downing beneath the water, his skin turning pale as his very soul left his body. A few nights ago, she'd dreamt she'd found him in the tub, slit wrists, blood stained onto her hands, their white porcelain tiled bathroom, covered crimson. She'd wake up in a cold sweat, sometimes crying, her face wet with tears and snot. If it wasn't Matthew, then it was Ian. She had distinct memories of the way he'd touched her, the way he'd pinned her down and covered her mouth, gently brushing away the tears that ran down her cheeks.

A few mornings ago, before all the vomiting had started, Camille had gone for a run. She needed to shake her mind clear of her thoughts, and so very much needed to get out of the house. Another minute around her father and she might kill him-she'd nearly lost it with him when she'd found out about the military academy he'd forced Matthew into for the following year. Another minute in that house, and she too may have drowned herself in a lake.

She'd been running down a familiar trail, her favorite trail. Evergreens stretched on for miles on end, just barely scraping the sky. The path twisted round and around along the forest and through the fields. In the early morning, the sun would rise, illuminating the trees in a golden halo. The sun was warm on her face, the breeze was gentle and danced through her curls. This trail, was one of the only places where she could truly find peace in the world.

As she came down the slope of the trial, her feet carrying her with the pull of gravity, her strides growing longer and faster, she saw something in the distance that brought her to an abrupt halt that nearly knocked her over. No more than fifty feet away, she saw a young man walking a dog. At least that's what it would've looked like to an ordinary person. In the distance Camille saw something that would make her hate this place, just like how she hated the quarry. As he approached closer to her, Camille's mind screamed at her to run, but her feet were glued to the ground. She felt like she was sinking in a ditch of quicksand. Somehow, her thoughts had reached her muscles, and just as her eyes met his, she took off sprinting through the forest. She dared not to look back.