Celeste's childhood wasn't something she loved talking about. It was filled with nothing but painful memories. Whether they were the ones from when her father, along with her brothers, left, or the ones from her mother's death and her stepfather's a...
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A BURNING sensation clung tightly onto my throat's walls and grew more painful with every single moment that passed. Unshed tears tainted my vision and danced across its edges, refusing to vanish or to leave my heavy eyes. And a hand of mine clenched tightly onto the comforter that was folded neatly by my side as my gaze refused to meet both Lorenzo's and Azalea's.
It seemed as though I were drowning further into the realisation that had struck my mind; that neither of the options I had sounded any good to my racing thoughts and my pacing heart. And yet the water I seemed to drown within refused to settle down the fire that had started encasing each and every limb of mine; the one that had once again started to burn both my lungs and my abdomen.
The excruciating pain from my abdomen only intensified as I blinked in an attempt to hold my tears back, and the fire rapidly turned into sharp daggers that penetrated through my skin and tore it open. My throat burned as I swallowed harshly and a hand of mine attempted to reach for my abdomen so that I could apply some pressure onto it and perhaps, let the pain stop.
But Enzo's hand grabbed mine before I could do so, stopping me and making my neck crane upwards so that my gaze met his intense one. A frown was etched onto his face, a sign of worry and concern getting slowly engraved on his features. His lips moved as different words seemed to leave them, but I couldn't process any of them.
I was too focused on searching for a way that would let the pain stop.
"Cel, come on." His panicked voice filled my ears, moments later. "You should go to a hospital. I won't leave. I promise."
I shook my head, murmuring a weak no as I did so. It wouldn't be our choice in case they put us into foster care.
"I've called my brother." I heard Azalea say. "He'll get you the antibiotics needed."
The corners of my lips subconsciously twitched upwards, a faint smile tugging at them as they did so. And a sign of gratitude coated my gaze that had found Azalea's. "Thank you so so much," I told her weakly, my incoherent voice barely audible to my own ears.
"I'm always ready to help, babe," she told me, her tone soft and calm, and her eyes loving and caring. "I still think that you should go to a hospital, though. My brother knows some people; he can talk to them in a way or other."
"Yes–"
"No," I murmured out, cutting Enzo off. A crease formed between his eyebrows as he glared at me, a frown tugging at his lips. I swallowed harshly, feeling some guilt bubble up within my chest. "I–I'll go to one if I don't feel better after I take the antibiotics, I promise."
Lorenzo shook his head as he tore his tainted gaze away from mine and towards Azalea. His throat bobbed, his shoulders slumping downwards as though he were too exhausted—as though my stubbornness had done nothing but tiring him further than everything else had already done.
