under the covers [hs au]

chapter forty-six.

trigger warning: depression, suicidal thoughts, disordered eating

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Wet hair clung to Samira's neck as she lay in the tub, rubbing the redolent soap on her skin. Her puffy eyes speculated her bare body, its changes, its misery. Her hand fell over her lower tummy, caressing the empty cookie pouch.

A rosy smell lingered in the air; cloudy light seeped through the window. The tips of Samira's fingers were wrinkled; it'd been well over a half-hour since she filled the tub with scalding water, lying in it because the strength to stand no longer existed.

Don't leave. Stay.

Samira closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She crossed her arms over her breasts, resting her head against the tub. The once steaming water was now lukewarm, but Samira felt her body stuck to where it was.

She inhaled languidly through her nose, her chest barely lifting. Utter emptiness dwelled in her heart, swelling with no one, nothing—not even herself. The love Samira wished to give herself was all gone. The undeserving, stubborn bitch that she was couldn't have any of it.

Heedlessly, Samira relaxed her legs. And she slid slowly.

She felt her backside touch the floor of the tub. The tepid water passed her collarbones. Samira parted her pale lips, attempting to liberate her voice—but her throat was numb from all that she wept.

Her body sank lower and lower, the water rippling. Samira's vision turned dark as all the water engulfed her body in the tub.

I can't do it anymore. I'm staying.

In one breath, Samira let go. Sonance swam in her ears as her head fell under the water.

It felt as though bricks piled up on Samira; she didn't hesitate to move.

It'll be over.

As bubbles left her mouth and ran to the surface, there was a heavy knock on the door.

"Samira, get out! You have to take me to soccer practice!"

At the sound of Elias' voice, Samira snapped her eyes open. The will that was long gone returned for mere seconds; she emerged from the water, nearly wheezing.

"Samira?" Elias stopped knocking. "Are you okay?"

Swallowing, Samira ran a hand over her wet face, eyes stinging: "Yeah, I'm fine."

Samira stood up, the droplets running down her body and back into the tub. She grabbed a warm towel, wrapping it around her body hastily.

Only if the knock came a few seconds later . . .

Fully dressed, Samira ran down the stairs to the kitchen. Awkwardness filled the room as she watched Wapa scroll through his phone with his glasses at the tip of his nose.

"Wapa?" Samira called quietly, mindlessly.

Discomfort crawled Samira's skin when Wapa put his phone down, getting up from the couch.

But before she could get her hopes up, Wapa walked right past her, as if she were dust.

For the last two weeks, he didn't bother acknowledging Samira's presence, nor did he pinch her cheek as an act of affection. No matter how much Wapa behaved this way, she was always so stung by it.

Samira felt neglected, like a child with no hand to eat from.

After dropping Elias off at soccer practice, Samira was back on the couch of Dr. Ayub's office. She ran her fingers through her now halfhearted waves. Dr. Ayub sat in front of Samira, giving Samira a few minutes to herself; Samira could feel Dr. Ayub's eyes burning holes into her.