Sorcery (Louis Tomlinson)

xxii. Movie Night

Stars shone in the night sky from the small window in the room. I spun myself around to find that I was in a nursery, my nursery. I was having one of those weird dreams again.

My nursery had a golden theme, the color present almost everywhere in the room. The crib, the sheets, the rocking chair in the corner, all of them were a light golden color. Pieces of white furniture and blankets broke up the shimmering shade, a pristine white picture frame holding a photo of Mom and Dad by the nursery doorway.

I quietly stepped over to the crib, my hands resting on the edge as my eyes peered into it.

I was peacefully asleep, a small onesie keeping me warm. It was quite a strange sensation, witnessing yourself sleeping as only a baby. I was broken out of watching myself by a loud crashing sound outside the nursery.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, my eyes looking back down to find me still asleep. I must've been a heavy sleeper as a baby.

I hesitantly walked out of the nursery and found myself in a living room that led to a kitchen, where a slim figure was huddled in on herself. Her breathing was shaky, her dark hair was a mess, and red droplets of blood were falling from her palm. Broken shards of glass littered the floor, more than likely from a drink glass that fell from the counter.

I recognized Dad's figure hurrying to Mom, being careful to not step on the glass on the floor.

"Amelie, what happened?" He asked, eyes on the broken glass on the floor before noticing her bleeding palm. The glass on the floor was immediately forgotten as he took her hand in his, eyes scanning over her injury for shards of glass stuck in her skin.

"'M sorry," Mom began, her usually confident and clear voice shaky and soft. "I-I don't know what...I was just..."

My heart broke as I watched the woman my Dad had worshipped and loved for so long crumble in on herself.

"It hurts, Mark..." My mother whimpers, my father kissing the top of her head and gently pulling her towards the kitchen sink. He was careful with his movements, almost overly so. He knew she was cracking, his gentle touches and kisses trying to keep his beautiful glass sculpture from shattering.

"Shh, I'll make it better." He whispered, turning the kitchen faucet on and moving Mom's palm under the running water. The crimson blood began to wash away, Dad turning Mom's hand back and forth slowly. I watched on as Mom's fingers curled around my Dad's, a husband's eyes looking to his tired and worn wife.

"Not that." Amelie told her love, blue eyes looking more dull than I remember.

"Then what is it?"

"Everything." My mother sighs, leaning into my father's chest. "I feel everything. Like right now."

Dad didn't say anything, only wrapped an arm around Mom's waist and buried his face in her hair.

"Exactly 2384 people are living in the Cavern right now. 1342 of them are asleep. Mira is one of them. 572 of those not sleeping are teenagers. 153 of those teenagers are on their way to a party. 78 of those teens will drink-" Mom suddenly stopped and groaned, gripping Dad's shirt tight.

"My head is killing me...it's too much to keep track of. I feel like I'm going crazy, I can't take it anymore." She sounded like she was about to cry, and my eyes widened when I saw the kitchen cabinets began to open and close on their own, the lights flickering a little, and silverware and plates rattling in the cupboards.

"Shh, Amelie, you're okay." Dad mumbled, pressing kisses to Mom's forehead. The rattling and flickering soon stopped, nothing but the sound of my mother quietly crying left.