love, or the lack thereof (p. davidson)

tweleve

I woke up after what felt like years of sleep. My body felt heavy, along with my mind.

The sheets of my bed felt to scratchy and everything that touched me, made my skin feel on fire.

I thrashed around in my bed only to realize my hand was gripping onto something. Or someone.

Bringing my eyes down to my hand that hung loose over the edge of my bed, I saw I was holding a tattooed hand, the hand belonging to Pete.

My eyes scanned over his sleeping body as he lay on my messy bedroom floor.

How had he kept his grip on my hand the entire time he was sleeping?

Every memory from hours earlier rushed into my head in a matter of seconds. Embarrassed of my actions, my hand left Pete's grip to wrap around my body. I was suddenly cold and the blankets around me weren't keeping me warm.

My body shook uncontrollably as I stared up at the ceiling above me. I shouldn't deserve to be where I am right now. I should be dead. I wanted to be dead.

I felt as tears began to stream down my face and I quickly wiped them away. My head was already throbbing and I knew crying would only make it worse.

The feeling of loneliness surrounded me as I laid in the cold bed and shivered. Though Pete was just down on the floor, feet away from me, I felt more alone then ever.

More tears quietly ran down my face, causing the t-shirt I was wearing to become wet. I found it in no way beneficial to try and stop myself from crying so I let myself go.

I tried to remain as quiet as I could, burying my head into my pillow to muffle my cries. I didn't want to be here.

Minutes went by but it felt like hours. Stirring down from the floor caused me to turn my head to face Pete who was moving around until his eyes fluttered open.

Immediately he turned to me and I quickly tried to hide myself from him, hoping that he hadn't seen me.

He didn't say anything so I assumed he hadn't noticed me until I felt a dip at the foot of my bed.

No words left his mouth, but I felt a large hand place on my back as he began rubbing it soothingly.

Slowly, I brought my face out from my pillow and turned to where Pete was sitting at the end of my bed.

He held a sad look on his face as he stared down at me. A face I never wanted to see him wear again.

"I am so sorry Shae." He whispered as I continued to look at him with red puffy eyes.

"Why are you sorry?" I sniffled back finally finding the courage to speak.

"I'm sorry you want to die." He said gently. But it felt more like a shot in the chest.

I began to cry again and buried my face back down in the pillows.

Pete's hand retracted from my back and I felt him climb over me to lay down on the other side of the bed.

He didn't touch me. He just laid there next to me.

I listened to his soft breathing as I cried. My body shook violently, as I became more cold.

Turing my head to face Pete I noticed he was looking at me.

"Pete I'm so cold." I cried out weakly.

Not saying anything he opened his arms up to me. Taking the chance for warmth I immediately wrapped myself in his long arms.

They held me tightly as I cried into his chest, that was covered by a black sweatshirt. My legs instinctively wrapped around his, but he didn't dare move a muscle. I was so thankful for him at this moment.