A Love Like Ours || m.f.

50

Sadness plagues my awake existence as I try over and over again to fall asleep. Mark's arms sit loosely around my waist, his steady breathing tickling the back of my neck.

Voices swirl around my head, and I can't help but feel haunted by my own thoughts. Without waking Mark, I sit up straight and swing my legs around so that my feet plant firmly on the floor. Pieces of hair fall in front of my vision, and I blow them away in annoyance before standing up in the pitch black room.

The only light source is that coming from the alarm clock by our bed. 2:14 am. Anxiety pulses through my veins at the thought of not being able to fall asleep. The clock is just another reminder. I walk over to it and turn it around quietly. The silvery-red numbers elude my sight if only for a while.

Mark mumbles incoherently and turns onto his opposite side, groggily searching for any human contact. I sigh in discontent and lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

"What are you doing? Come back to bed." He grumbles sleepily, subconsciously lifting his fingers up to my hair.

I grab his warm hand and press his fingers to my lips. A sad smile toys with my features as I place his hand back down on the bed.

"Go back to sleep, I'll be here in the morning." I whisper, my breath quivering in an attempt to fight back the nightly tears.

Every other night for the past two weeks has been the same story. I wake up, try yet fail to go back to sleep, and end up crying somewhere in the process. Mark has awoken to my stifled sobs on many accounts. Each time he somehow comforts me into sleeping. The past week has left me terribly ill. Losing our child has really really drained me.

However, tonight will be different. I will not wake Mark, I will not cry, because I need to get ahold of myself. Two weeks I've been under the water, holding my breath. Two weeks I've been drowning in my own tears and blame. It ends tonight.

I grab a tie blanket from the bed and drape it over my body before heading downstairs. The cool wood floor greets my toes in a rather chilling way, sending goosebumps up my bare legs. My heart is no longer in control as my mind finds the courage to step in front of the nursery door.

I've restricted myself from coming anywhere near this room due to emotional tethers I didn't want to face, but tonight was a night for facing my emotions head on. My fingers dance lightly over the brass doorknob before gripping it firmly and pushing open the oak door. It took me a second to realize my eyes were squeezed shut so tight I was starting to see stars.

When I opened them I was met with a fully built crib. The woodwork was a lovely deep brown color to match the dresser standing against the opposite wall. Instead of tears, a smile formed on my lips as I ran my hands along the smooth wooden finish. The room was bare other than the two large pieces of furniture.

A large framed window sat on the wall opposite of the door with a view to live for. The moon was nothing more than a small sliver of a crescent lighting up the navy blue skies speckled with stars. My body suddenly felt very light and I found myself slowly descending toward the floor.

I sat in that place in the middle of the room tucked within the confines of my blanket for a hour and a half before finally noticing a small green lump underneath the crib. Confusion laces my facial features as I reach forward for the object. After struggling for a moment to pull it from under the wooden frame, I manage to retrieve the plush piece from its place.

A smile makes itself present on my lips when I realize what the mysterious green being is. Rounded and soft, my eyes focus on the bright blue encircling a large black dot. It's an eye, a septic eye to be exact. I clutch the plushie to my chest and let out a soft giggle. With no more than a second thought, I lunge up from my spot and quietly scurry up the stairs to the recording room.