my professor, my obsession || cillian murphy

chapter twenty one

   I lay on the floor, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees, the echoes of my racing heartbeat gradually subsiding. Despite the panic attack fully ending, a persistent knot of anxiety lingered in the pit of my stomach, refusing to fade. It dawned on me that this unease might become permanent, a reminder that my life was changing, not for the better. The magic of Cillian and I's relationship was now overshadowed by this horrible situation. Recollections of past struggles surfaced, completely ruining the illusion of my dream relationship that I had only gotten to have for a few days. Thoughts of David flooded my mind, prompting me to reach out.

With a sense of urgency, I punched in his number, my fingers trembling slightly. He answered after a brief pause, and I blurted out, "David, how are you holding up? Is everything alright? And Mom, is she..."

David's response came quick with anguish, his voice strained and weary, which broke my heart. "She's still gone," he uttered, his words heavy with frustration. "I don't know why she won't respond to me, yet she answered you immediately."

His vulnerability hit me like a wave, leaving me momentarily speechless as I absorbed the weight of his pain. With a sympathetic nod, I closed my eyes, "I understand," I murmured softly, my voice filled with empathy. "She just doesn't want to scare you–."

The frustration in David's tone escalated, his anger palpable even through the phone line. "She's already scaring me enough by disappearing like this!" he exclaimed, his emotions raw and unfiltered. I couldn't blame him for his outburst; in his shoes, I would likely feel the same. The situation wasn't only infuriating and distressing, but also sad.

"I know," I reassured him, trying to maintain a state of calmness. "Where are you right now? Are you at home? Have you been able to take care of yourself, get enough to eat?" My questions might have felt overwhelming, but my concern for his well-being outweighed any hesitation. I liked to think of David as mature for his age, but he was still just a child, trying to deal with the weight of this situation all alone. 

"Yeah," He answered. "Still home, there's enough food, don't stress over that."

"Are you absolutely certain you can't stay at Sam's?" I asked. Sam had been David's best friend for years, the one friend I trusted wholeheartedly, given the stability of his family—both emotionally and financially.

"If I keep staying there, his parents might start to suspect something," he explained. "I really don't want them to involve CPS." His concern resonated with me; Sam's family was known for their vigilance, and any hint of instability might trigger drastic action.

"Alright, I understand," I said, though a sense of urgency gnawed at me. My mind raced, scouring for alternatives, but the reality remained stark: our options were limited. Without family to rely on and few trusted friends, the idea of CPS involvement terrified me, especially the thought of David entering the system.

"Listen, David," I began, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on my shoulders. "I'll reach out to Dad..." The words hung in the air, laden with both uncertainty and determination, as I prepared to take on the daunting task of becoming fully responsible for David's well-being.

"Why?!" David's voice rose in panic, his protests echoing through the phone.

"I need to speak with him," I replied, attempting to maintain a calm demeanor despite the turmoil within me. "Just trust me, alright? I'll call you back afterward."

"Okay," David said, his voice still tinged with fragility.

With a heavy heart, I ended the call with David, feeling a pang of guilt as I dialed my father's number. Each digit felt like a weight. Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I drew in a deep breath before pressing the call button, preparing myself. Uncertainty clouded my mind; would our talk turn into an argument, or perhaps, against all odds, maybe help? Regardless, I was prepared to confront him, to voice my anger and hold him accountable for his actions. What he did was unforgivable, and it was time for him to face the consequences.