The Taste of Silver | Fortune's Fool #2

26 | a jilted groom

[ a j i l t e d g r o o m ]

♥ gabriel ♥

IT WAS SOMEHOW 3am by the time by the time I went back to our room. As I walked down the corridor, there was still the faint sound of music playing - the style had dialled down to slow songs and I could tell the night was winding up.

I swayed side to side a little as I walked and although I was tempted to blame it on the rocking of the boat, I knew different. Tapping the key card on the room, the reader flashed green. Quietly, I pushed open the door and noticed that the light was off.

The duvet were still strewn across the bedsheet in a mess. But it was empty.

My grey eyes darted to the strip of white light coming from the bathroom. It was left open a slither.

Holding the door handle, I pushed it open slowly not before hearing the sound of water trickling gently. I stood there still for a moment in silence, hearing the pounding of my heart slow a few beats. My eyes fell to my feet. There were very few occasions nowadays that made my heart sink but in that moment I felt my stomach drop into a pool of hollow sadness.

Turning around, I took off my shoes and socks, hanging my black blazer in the cupboard. It was a strange evening. There was an odd silence humming in the air, buzzing furiously if you focused on it but fading into the background if you ignored it.

Unzipping Talisa's suitcase, I pulled out another nightdress and a white towel from the rack before walking back to the bathroom.

Wordlessly, I put the clothing on the side and used the hand towel to mop up the puddle of water that had collected on the bathroom floor - it had escaped from the shower door which had been accidentally left open an inch.

Talisa still sat crouched on the floor on the shower, arms wrapped tightly around her legs and head balanced upon her knees. A continuous stream of water fell from the square shower head, the beads of water running down steadily and marring the dark brown colour of her hair to an almost black.  The other droplets of water smashed against the plastic coating on the shower tray loudly in a painfully artificial sound.

A hollow pit formed in my stomach at the way her empty green eyes were fixated in front of her, staring emptily forward in utter blankness. I didn't need to look at them to know her pupils were dilated. Talisa was far away. There was a faint outline of black mascara, dancing down her cheeks. The white nightdress she had been wearing was almost see-through, clinging to her small frame like a second skin.

My hand reached out to turn off the shower but I hesitated when she trembled subconsciously at my slight movement.

I stopped.

I felt as if I had fine china balanced upon my head; one step too fast and the ceramic would shatter into a thousand pieces. Changing my mind, I slowly sat down on the floor next to her, wrapping my arms around her. Minutes ticked by and slowly, the droplets of water seeped into my shirt.

It was rare to ever see Talisa like this and I meant it.

It pissed me off like mad to admit it but she had a will of steel. Nothing, I mean nothing, could shake her.

I could count the occasions when I'd found her like this on one hand.

The first time was when I'd come home early from work and found her at my flat. The second time being when I'd stumbled upon her in an empty Forteaux classroom. I hated the sick feeling I'd been left with each time. I guess it reminded me of a key failing of humanity; that people aren't as strong as they come across.