TRAPPED

28

Celine

That night, long after Nicolas leaves my room and everyone's asleep, I crack my door open and step outside, into the dark, silent hallway.

I checked my phone before I left my bed; it's four a.m., and I haven't slept a wink yet. I can't. I tried—I tossed and turned in my bed for hours but couldn't make myself shut my eyes and lose consciousness. Thoughts of my mother, thoughts of everything that's happened over the past few days cloud in my head, swirling around.

I walk to the stairs, then slowly make my way to the bottom of them. I wrap my arms around myself as a chill racks my body, then turn into the kitchen. Before he left my room, Nicolas took the headache soother since it had become warm. He said he'd put it in the freezer.

When I check, I find it there. I touch it, relieved to find that it's cold, and quickly put it on. It soothes the dull ache in my head immediately, and I close the freezer before trying to look around. I pull the things covering my eyes up, but it just makes them hurt so I hastily lower them back down and lean on the kitchen counter. I cross my arms on the marble top, putting my head on them.

A moment later I hear footsteps, but I don't look up. But then Julien says my name, lightly tapping my back.

"Celine." He whispers, exhaustion thickly coating his words. "What're you doing?"

I ignore him.

He sets a hand on my shoulder. "Celine, you should be in bed."

I shrug away from his touch. He sighs.

     "Do you want me to get dad?" He asks.

"No." I mumble, the simple word coming out strained.

"Okay, let's go in the living room, then." He says.

     He pulls me up, his hold gentle. Then he guides me into the living room, sitting me on the couch. I put my leg out, accidentally kicking something that feels like a pillow. I can't see anything, the head soother entirely obstructing my vision.

     "Sorry." I whisper, leaning down. But he pulls me back up and helps me into a sitting position.

     "It's okay." He replies softly. He sits beside me. "How come you're awake."

     Because I keep hearing my mothers voice. Sometimes her words are kind, gentle, and sometimes they're cruel and daunting.

I don't say that. Instead, I choke out the words: "can't sleep."

And then his arms encircle me, and he wraps me up in a warm embrace. I'm frozen for a moment before I lean on him, resting my head in the crook of his neck. His large hand circles my bag gently.

A tear drops, however I hardly feel it due to the low temperature of the headache soother.

I inhale a small breath. "Julien."

"Hm?"

"Do you think I'm gonna die?" I ask.

I feel him stiffen, "what? Of course not."

He doesn't know I have cancer, but I just need to hear from somebody that I'm not going to die. That I'll be alright. Sometimes I feel like I want to die, like that would be the best thing for myself and for everybody. But then I realise I'd be too afraid to do it, since it isn't. Not really.