Melody of death | English Version | Charles Leclerc FF

fifty-six ఌ

The world stopped for a long moment. We stared wordlessly into each other's eyes until Ivy took the initiative and made off with a knowing look. Then we were alone. Immediately, I wished she would come back. Just so I didn't have to talk.
"Just... say nothing.", I raised my hands defensively and looked impassively at the white sheets. Charles came to my bed with slow steps and sat down in the chair. He looked at me from head to toe. As I did so, I saw how his expression became more and more worried and he finally wanted to start talking. "Why are you doing this? You will kill yourself...", the sad sound in his voice, broke my heart. My eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry," I gasped, "I never wanted that. But even if I wanted to," I looked into his tired eyes, "I can't stop anymore. I can only destroy myself.", Charles put a hand on my fingers, which moved with agitation. In me, the sadness wanted to break through. My chest and limbs ached from all the weight that had accumulated inside me.
"Hey," he pulled me protectively into his arms. "Everything is fine. I'm here.", I clawed at his sweater like I was about to fall. I didn't know that he was also falling. We both plunged into the depths without noticing...
I cried myself out on his shoulder. I felt incredibly empty and weak. Not only because my body was, but because my heart and soul were slowly but surely withering away like a rose. A little bit more every day...
In the end, we were interrupted by my parents, who entered the room completely upset. It's nice that they find out that Charles and I are together. Couldn't have gone better, right?
"Célina. What happened to you?", my mother slapped her hand over her mouth in shock as she let her gaze wander over me. 'If only you could see my insides,' I thought quietly to myself. "And when were you going to tell us about your relationship with Charles?", my God, did they want to throw any more at my head? Maybe I once stepped into a dog poop as a child?
"Mom, Dad, I'm fine. That was just... a small accident.", I tried to talk myself out of it, referring to the first question. But when my parents shook their heads unequivocally, I realized how little use the excuse was. Right, Nothing.
"We've already talked to your doctor. The situation is serious.", my mother looked at me as if I was being told this for the first time, "Since you are already 18, we can't force you, but... it would be best to take you to a psychological institution...", I looked at my mother incredulously. She couldn't be serious.
"Tell me, are you still ticking right?", I snapped angrily at both adults, "I'm not going anywhere. Except home and that still today! That's the end of the matter!", I snorted, I was so upset.
"Don't you care?" my mother asked. There was melancholy in her eyes.
"I don't know, but the fact is that you shouldn't care. It's MY life, not yours," I hissed. I had lost so much control over myself that I didn't even know what I was saying.
"We just want to help you..." my mom whispered, her voice pleading. But I don't need your help!", that was the end of the discussion for me. It was as if strangers were standing in front of me. I had never looked at my growers like that before. Like they're no one I know. A wall, like Charles's, stood between them and me.
I silently looked back and forth between Charles, Dad, and Mom. Charles kept his eyes downcast, visibly uncomfortable with the situation. My parents seemed to regret coming here or even conceiving me. I haven't seen them so shaken for a long time. If it hadn't been for the anger inside me, I probably would have felt sorry for them. But at that moment, I just felt the disapproval that they didn't show understanding.
If a nurse hadn't come in, we would have stared wordlessly into the void for minutes. "Célina needs rest now," she seemed to have noticed how much thick air had filled the room. My mom barely managed to say goodbye to me and was the first to leave. My dad patted me sympathetically on the shoulder, wished me a speedy recovery, and then followed his wife. Charles stayed. He did not leave the clinic until the end of the visiting period. Most of the time we didn't talk, just stared into space. And when we exchanged words, it was only about things that did not concern each other. Still, it felt good that he was with me.

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Three arduous days passed, which I was forced to spend in the hospital. It wasn't until Sunday, four days after my breakdown, that I was allowed to discharge myself. Although Charles wasn't happy about this, he drove me home with the little stuff I had with me. I was still weak, and the doctors had looked at me quite skeptically as I left, but I didn't want to stay there anymore. On the one hand, it drove me crazy just to see the same simple walls and on the other hand, I needed my independence again.
Charles, standing in front of the apartment, asked me where my keys were so that he could unlock the door. I tried to remember and didn't notice how I was drifting a bit in my mind and rummaging aimlessly in my pocket. However, the Monegasque interrupted me at some point and reached into my coat pocket. When he pulled his hand out again, he presented me the keychain. I didn't even remember he was there. "Oh, right..." I murmured and put on a grin as if I were a fool who once had forgotten something. My counterpart raised an eyebrow and looked at me like I was an alien. Then he turned away and unlocked. He put the small duffel bag down in my room while I stepped into the room and exhaled. I felt much more comfortable here. The next moment my bag fell out of my hand. The stuff inside spilled out on the floor and I faltered as Charles reached for the pill pack to pick it up. He read the writing on it. His expression became skeptical and irritated. Then he held it visibly in front of my nose and his gaze was so serious that I almost fell over with nervousness. "Ma Chérie, what's that?" I hesitated. I knew from the beginning he was going to kill me as soon as he saw it. "Pills.", I kept it short and tried to tear the package out of his hand, but he dodged me. "I'm not blind. Why are you taking antidepressants?" he asked in a serious tone. "Please give it to me," I asked him, but he shook his head. "Only when you give me an answer!" such a damn shit. He's still just as stubborn as he was when we first met. "Charles!" I admonished him briskly, but he stopped at me. "Célina!", okay, are we going to play a game? Who can say each other's name more severely? "Why does a person take tablets of this kind?", I asked and failed in another attempt to get the said drugs back into my possession. "Pills can't heal your soul," he murmured in depression, "All the side effects... they'll only make you sick.", in the end it had only been a hoarse whisper coming from Charles' throat.
"Oh yes! And how do you even know I have side effects?" I asked energetically.
"I noticed it. Have you noticed how much you stand beside yourself? You have become forgetful, just like with the key. You seem permanently absent-minded, your pocket falls off, and you don't really seem to understand what I'm telling you. The doctor also asked me about this. You've become different...", he explained his observation.  I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Slowly, I couldn't hear all this talk about my problems anymore.
"And now? Even if I do, I'm fine.", with that I finally snatched my property out of his hand and knelt on the floor to pick up the rest of the stuff. All that came from Charles was a disappointed sigh. He stood impassively in the room. I felt his gaze on me as I stood up again to throw the bag on my bed. Every movement I made was slow. I thought about it. I knew I had to straighten out what I messed up.
"Hey," I approached him thoughtfully. The anger had left my voice. Instead, I heard for myself how sweet she sounded. Lying sweet. "I've got this under control. It's not as bad as it might look from the outside.", I smiled at him, even though I would have liked to bang my head against the wall. Just so I wouldn't have to feel anything anymore. Nothing, but infinite, peaceful emptiness. "I promise to stop taking the pills, okay?" he took a hand and gently stroked my soft cheek. Even though it was warm, it felt like razor-sharp ice cubes.
"You promise me that?" his voice was hopeful now.
"Yes. I promise you," I replied. My heart convulsed painfully. They were nothing more than empty and meaningless promises. But Charles swallowed it.  He pulled me into his arms, hugged me tightly. "We can do it.", his whisper caused an unpleasant goosebump under my sweater. I hated myself for being so brazen, but I couldn't think of anything else than this white lie. I needed rest. Rest from help, attention and worries. Because no, none of this can help me...