Lovers End [h.s]

☆ Thirty-eight ☆

CONSTANCE BANE

Day 1:

They dragged me into a small room that contained barely any light in it.

The walls were bare and white, giving people no reason to really want to spend their time here. It was all depressing, not to mention, lonely.

There was a bed, slightly larger than a single with, yet again, white sheets and white pillows. And how generous was it of them to provide two pillows?

Throwing my one duffle bag, which seems as though Lela packed for me without my knowledge, onto the floor by my feet, the guard and nurse stepped out of my new room, closing the door behind them without a word.

Before I had the time to even run over to the door and ask when I was allowed to be let out of my room, the locking of the door echoed through the room and they had gone their separate ways while I was stuck in this room with no way out.

Banging on the metal door and twisting the handle did absolutely nothing. It was all a useless attempt to get out of here.

Best rehab facility my ass. This was adjacent to a prison with nice furniture.

Sliding down with my back against the door, I tucked my legs into my chest and buried my face into my hands, shaking my head to myself as I tried to get it together.

This would have been easier if it was my choice.

It would have also been easier if I didn't have anyone worth waiting for while I was stuck in here. Knowing that I was missing them and hoping that they were missing me in turn was the most painful part of it all.

I wonder what Harry was doing right now. Did Ophelia know what happened? Did they believe me? Is Lela just going to keep living there? Is she going to tell everyone her version of her story?

There were so many questions running through my mind, anger, and exhaustion blended into the mix which just made matters worse.

I was exhausted.

Day 2:

I was already starting to feel the withdrawal symptoms and I felt close to the point of breaking down.

I was curled up around myself, on the floor. My cheek was pressed to the cold tile, keeping my warm face cool as I tried to think about anything else other than this.

I would take often trips to the bathroom, leaning on the edge of the toilet, ready to throw up and splash cold water on my face. And every single time I couldn't wait to get back to my position on the cold tile floor next to my comfortable bed which I could not bring myself to lay on.

No matter how much I asked them to let me out, to let me go on a walk around the facility, to get me some food or gum, or anything else to get my mind off this torturous feeling, they said that it was not time yet.

I wanted to scream at them, but not knowing what this facility was or what they would do to me, I chose to keep my mouth shut and stay quiet.

Day 4:

They found me asleep on the tile floor, right next to my bed. I didn't feel like going up there and the floor seemed like a good enough idea.

I dragged the sheets and pillows down from the bed to try and recreate the sleepovers that we would have in the living room.

Although the living room was much cozier, this arrangement would do for now.

It was cold, and I still didn't want to get up on the bed. It seemed...wrong. It sounded stupid, but the floor looked a lot more reliable. Safer.