Her Therapist

Chapter 8.

SEBASTIAN

I open the door of my apartment surprisingly with easiness using only one hand while with the other supporting the passed-out girl whose head is resting on my shoulder. Once I get in the darkness welcomes me and I need a moment to adjust my eyes to it, blinking a few times so the blackness disappears and I know where to step. Soon, I place the keys in the small basket on the right of the door. I groan slightly, struggling to take off my shoes without dropping the person who has already given me enough trouble, yet here I am bringing her to my apartment. 

My place. My home. I still sometimes can't believe that I have my own place. The place to which I can come and be in peace, without the usual noise my shelter had always been in. Though, to be honest, sometimes I miss it. More than I should. 

I miss the boys even though they used to hide my stuff and sometimes take it without asking but I got used to that eventually, although I never understood that need of theirs; I miss the noise of the loud, so much, usually too loud TV, I miss the fights, just.... everything. 

The noise of my TV snaps me from my past and my previous home, and I quickly curse under my breath, afraid that it will wake Larsson up.

"Shit!"

It's just that sometimes I, well most of the time leave the TV turned off so when I came back home I don't get welcomed by silence. This way I have a feeling as if someone indeed was waiting for me to come home after a busy and exhausting day at work, but it's just.. sometimes. Usually, I'm lonely even with the people who keep me company from TV bickering or laughing, depends what I turn on.

"Mhm, no...", Esther mumbles something, and my eyes widen. If she wakes up now...

Once she starts shivering under my arms again, I quickly remember that she is, as well as I am, wet and freezing, so I carefully place her on my sofa. She mumbles something incoherent again, and I bite my lip, praying to God that the tranquilizer I gave her last... well, until morning, at least. That would be just perfect. If I could get some sleep, too, that would be perfect since I've had some nightmares last night from which I couldn't rest enough. 

"Sleep, please, sleep", I whisper, crossing my fingers. I remove the strands of her hair from her pale face and brush her cheeks stained with dry tears.

Suddenly when I remember how she cried I sadden, but shaking my head I try my best to get of the image in which she's screaming the loudest she can, her mouth wide open, her eyes closed, until no voice comes from her mouth, until she loses it, and starts coughing, still sobbing quietly. 

"Oh, Esther, what do I do with you, girl, hm?" I brush the wet strands of hair off her forehead, and then I remember that I should check her temperature. I surprise but also calm down when I see that she doesn't have a fever, yet she is cold as ice, and I hurry to my room to grab some blankets.

I stop just to tune down the TV but don't turn it off completely. I need people around me. Even if they are people in the black digital box. I just hope the light of a screen doesn't wake her. I come back with two blankets, but in the process, I also picked some of my sweatshirts and sweatpants.

No. I don't plan on taking off her clo... those can't be called clothes. Anyway, I won't be doing that, that's for sure. And they aren't wet thank God, 'cause I put my coat on her, and it managed to protect her, so that is a big bonus. I will just put the sweater on her, and roll sweatpants on her legs so she doesn't be cold.

I sit on the edge of the bed, and run my hand through my damp hair, pushing it back off my forehead. God, I'll need to take a shower. But first I need to warm Esther a little bit. I don't know why I like her name, but I keep calling her Larsson since she hasn't said my name nor once, except when she imitated Conor's nickname for me. Speaking of him, I wonder how is he? Has he passed out yet? Is he in his home, sleeping after a good round of sex, or is he still drinking and where exactly is he doing so?