the girl with all of the choices

s i x t y - s i x

**TW: Mentions of self-harm and suicide**

4731 words

december twenty-second- scars

~ Addison ~

I woke up to soft blankets, wrapped around me to keep out the wintery chill.

Yet I still felt the cold.

I rolled over on the couch, turning my face away from the padded back so I was looking at the fireplace. I sat up a bit, looking around at the room in front of me.

The windows were still mostly dark, the emanations from the tree and the mantle the only source of light.

The chair where he had last sat was empty, the blanket he was using strewn over it haphazardly.

He wasn't there.

But I didn't want to know where he was.

So, I slumped back down into the pillows, relishing in their warmth for as long as I could, before sleep took me again.

-----------------------------------------------------

The second awakening was less harsh than the first.

Sunlight was glistening in through the fake windows, and the air was warm. My feet weren't cold, for once.

The first thing I saw after the sunlight was the bowl of Pixie Puffs on the coffee table in front of me.

My eyes dared to dart over to the seat he had slept in.

Except for this time, unlike when I looked over in the middle of the night, he was sitting there, his eyes grazing over a book in his lap while he spooned cereal into his mouth.

My gaze didn't linger long. I saw his eyes begin to flit over towards me and instinctively shut my eyelids, pretending to be asleep for a little while.

I laid motionless as I heard him sigh and seemingly place his book and his bowl on the coffee table. Then there were footsteps. And they were getting closer. My heartbeat quickened in the anxiety of being caught, but I willed my breathing to stay calm, not wanting to give away my truth.

Not yet.

I couldn't face him yet.

Just a few more minutes.

In an instant, his hand was on the top of my head, stroking my hair with a tender touch, one so tender that I hadn't felt from him since he joined me in the shower before leaving me at the end of last July.

Then I felt his lips. On my forehead. And his words.

"I love you."

Then his footsteps returned. Based on where the sound was coming from, I assumed he was in the kitchen.

A cabinet door opened. The sound of glass on the counter. Liquid pouring. The footsteps returned. The adjusting of the chair underneath him. The sound of glass on the coffee table.

Then a sharp inhale.

"Fuck."

Footsteps again, this time faster. Hurried, almost frantic. Away from the sitting room, towards the bedroom. No, the washroom. The door shut quietly, as he was obviously trying to not wake me.

He continued to mutter obscenities as I heard a cupboard door open and close.

But he was gone.