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┏━━━ CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE━━━┓ ★゜・。。・゜゜・the weight of the world ──── Mallory Thompson
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MALLORY AWAKENED TO THE WORLD FEELING LIKE A THOUSAND WEIGHTS WERE PRESSED DOWN ONTO HER FRAGILE AND BATTERED BODY. Through blurry vision, she scanned her surroundings. She recognized the familiar walls of her bedroom but despite that, dread and fear encapsulated her. She couldn't help but panic slightly upon the confusion that entered her mind next. Why couldn't she piece together anything?
She lurched forward as her body seized from the power of a cough that squeezed her lungs and momentarily made her feel like she couldn't breathe. She tried to move her hand but found herself unable as it had been covered by another hand. Her panic slowly dwindled when she recognized the familiar figure of her best friend resting by her side.
Sensing her movement, Louis woke, relief filling his bloodshot eyes when they met Mallory's. He immediately sat upright, his hand unconsciously gripping her's tighter. He looked exhausted and Mallory could feel guilt rise in the pit of her stomach. She hated that it was because of her weakened state Louis had stayed to watch over her. Though she could not yet recall why she had been here in the first place. Her mind had not yet wakened up completely and even her physical movements seemed slower than usual.
Louis seemed defeated as he had not yet spoken, he just simply stared at her. However, it was more like he was looking right through her, his mind plagued by something. Mallory willed herself to offer one broken attempt of a smile before she opened her mouth. "Hi," she whispered, her throat raw and cracking slightly just with one word.
Louis finally looked directly at her, his mouth twitching. "Hi, smalls," he responded. A small glint of familiar mischief flashed in his eyes and Mallory couldn't help but roll her eyes, feeling much lighter than when she initially had woken up.
However, the reality of her situation suddenly came crashing down on her like a tidal wave, and the faint smile was instantly wiped from her face. Her eyes traveled down towards her blanket. Removing her hand from Louis' grasp, she peeled back the old fabric, revealing what was underneath. Her bandaged hand, or rather her stump, stared back up at her, and the first thing she tried to do was clench her fist—despite her being unable. Her shoulders drooped and a thick tension filled the room.
"Ruby cleaned it and put fresh bandages on," Louis spoke, sadness swimming in his eyes as he gnawed on the inside of his cheek. It was a habit he never used to have, but with recent events the teenager developed new nervous habits.
