For The Record

16

16

SOMETHING brushes into my side, nudging me awake. "Little one? Little one, please wake up."

I jerk awake, my head light but my body heavy. Blood pounds in my ears and my throat is dry, parched. I fumble around for the human-sized water bottle I keep by my side when I sleep, and it's rolled towards me, tilted off the tip of a finger. 

I take it and greedily gulp down its contents, wiping down my sticky face. Nightmares. Skylar's face as she walks away from me, again and again and again, while I scream her name, beg for her to stay, to explain why she's doing this. Every time, she falters, takes a misstep, maybe to turn around.

Then a giant shadowy hand clamps her and rips her away before either of us can move. 

"You're not meant to be in here," I mutter, hugging the bottle to my chest. 

"I know, I know, but I was worried about you." He gnaws on his bottom lip, his voice achingly gentle. "I could hear you screaming, little one. You were having a nightmare. Do you need anything? More water? Are you okay sleeping alone?"

"Well, I'm not sleeping with you," I snap, and red floods his face.

"Not--not with me. Just in my room. Only if it makes you feel safer, though." Warm breath mists my body, exhaled from parted lips that match the crease between his brows--tight with concern. "I only want you to feel safe, little one." 

"I'm fine." I'm not fine. I don't want the images in my brain to resurface, to hurt me, to sink their teeth into my skin, but I don't have a choice.

I can't let myself be vulnerable around him. 

His eyes look sad, welling with concern. "Okay. But please, little one, if you need anything..." he trails off.

When I don't reply, he clicks the light off once more and returns to his own room, next door to mine. Evening my breathing, I try to fall asleep, but when three AM rolls around and my eyes are still too frightened to close, I begrudgingly admit to myself that it'll be better to sleep sooner rather than later.

Especially if Ariel chooses to take matters into his own hands.

With a shiver at the thought, I hike down the covers and edge across the hallway to his bedroom door. It's ajar, the hallway light slanting across the floor. Ariel is a mountainous mound beneath his duvet, only a dark tuft of hair rising above the hem.

Until appears a forehead, and bright, blinking eyes, and a waving hand pokes out of the covers. He gestures to a folded-up t-shirt on the bedside table, pocket-side-up. "You can sleep there if you want, little one. Or anywhere else that's comfortable. It's completely up to you."

His curled hand touches the floor and I approach it, crawling into the fingers. He lifts me to the nightstand and deposits me on its surface.

"Sleep well," he whispers as I crawl into the pocket of the shirt and bury myself into the fabric. There's the sound of fabric shifting, then a gentle weight rests on the side of my body. "Little one."

He removes his hand and I close my eyes. It sure would be nice to sleep tonight.

🌙🌙🌙

This morning, Ariel is nowhere to be found in the vicinity of his room. By the looks of it, he isn't even upstairs. My theory is confirmed when I hear movement on the ground floor, spoons and pots clanking together and the striking sound of the stove being turned on.

I sigh. The one good thing about sleeping in Ariel's room was that I wouldn't have to go downstairs by myself, but it seems like that ship sailed at least a couple of hours before I awoke.

I approach the stairs apprehensively, scrutinising the steep, cliff-like drop. My feet brush the edge and my stomach turns, anticipating my raw hands and sore arms and feet from having to climb down the entire flight.

Oh well.

I twist from side to side, attempting to limber up, when I notice something about the banister. The side closest to the wall is untouched, a polished slide all the way to the floor, but on the opposite side, anchored to the side of the stairs and fitted with a view of the sickening drop, tiny steps have been carved out of the wood. 

I don't feel like sliding, so I take the stairs, marvelling at how easily I can sprint down them, like it's a normal staircase built for my side. I reach the ground floor in minutes compared to hours, my feet skidding on the wooden floor.

Ariel's shadow stretches out from the dining-room as he sets a plate on the table. He seems to notice my presence, because his eyes slide to mine and he smiles. "Good morning, little one. I was just going to come and get you, but I guess you've already seen what I was working on. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's...functional," I murmur, picking across the room and stopping at the threshold of his shadow. "Uh..."

"Sorry, little one." He drops to one knee to scoop me into two hands. "I made tea and toast, is that okay?"

"Yeah." I leap off his palms as soon as it's safe, approaching my own plate, tiny in comparison to his. "Thanks. For--for last night, as well. I, um, appreciate it."

"You're always welcome, little one." He beams, throwing me off.

"Ariel..."

"What's wrong, little one?" 

"You said you heard me screaming. But...did you hear what I was screaming about?" I test my words cautiously.

His expression shifts to one of seriousness and he looks away. "I never meant to listen, but I'm glad I did. Because you kept calling for someone, over and over and over. Skylar." He blinks, and sweeps his gaze onto me, pinning me with the intensity of his eyes. "Skylar Miyasaki. Is that right?"