Murder House

Chapter 5: I'm here

I woke up feeling like I was being stared at. I looked around the room: nothing. I sighed heavily, leaning my head back down onto the pillow. I heard breathing next me and my eyes soon adjusted to the darkness of my room. Tate was laying beside me, silently sleeping. I smiled. He really was very sweet and adorable. My bed was big enough to fit three or more people, but he was curled up right beside me, almost touching me.

He stirred slightly, crinkling his nose up and exhaling loudly. His dark eyes fluttered open and as they did, a wide grin spread across his cheeks. His dimple was so cute.

"Hey," he spoke softly, not quit in a whisper. His voice sounded raspy and cool and it sent a shiver down my spine.

"Hey," I replied, hiding my smile from him.

His grin soon faded and he furrowed his brows, "What are you doing up? Are you alright?"

I shook my head, staring up at the ceiling.

"Anxiety?" he whispered, staring up into my face.

My breath stopped and a sudden feeling of hopelessness washed over me like the water from the shower head. I held my breath, now, trying my best not to burst into tears, I'm sure he'd make fun of me if I did. All I could do was nod. Was it anxiety? It must have been, that's what I've been treated for.

"Hey, it's okay," he sweetly spoke, propping himself up on his elbow. He took his hand and placed it on my cheek, lovingly. "I'm here."

I felt a hot tear slip down my face. I tried my best to hold the rest in. Complete hopelessness.

"Marissa," my name rolled off of his tongue like a sweet song, reaching out and embracing my eardrums. I looked up to him, more tears now filling my eyes. His face was full of complete worry and sympathy, but also enlightenment and awareness. He rubbed his thumb along my cheek, wiping away a tear. "You're okay," he whispered. "You'll be okay, I promise."

With that, he laid back down, this time pulling me in tightly to his chest. His hand dug into my hair and he set his chin on the top of my head. I gripped onto his shirt, that same feeling of safety fighting off the hopelessness.

"I'm here," he whispered again. "I won't let anything hurt you."

I held my breath still, trying to hold back tears. I nuzzled my head into his chest lovingly, trying to return the feeling he was giving me: being cared for.

He exhaled, stroking my hair and loosening up his tense grip.

I must've fallen asleep after that because I woke up a second time due to the sun rays leaking into my room. I sat up quickly looking around my room. "Tate?" I croaked. My bed was empty besides the beat up denim jacket laying beside me. I grabbed it, bringing it up to my face. I was sure this was his. It held his scent.

"Tate?" I asked again, this time a little louder.

"Who's Tate, dear?"

I looked up to see my grandmother standing gracefully in the doorway. I looked at her almost confused but I quickly snapped out of it, shaking my head. "I uhm. I must've had a bad dream."

She stared at me in wonder, a flicker of worry washed over her face. "Oh. Alright."

There was a silence then as she continued to stand, ghost-like in my doorway, still in her starch white night gown. I looked at her and saw something almost like fear in her eyes.

I rose an eyebrow, confused and worried, "Gram, are you-"

"Breakfast is downstairs. I'll take you to school in another hour or so, so hurry on and get ready. Make sure you eat." And with that she floated away.

I sat there for a minute or two, a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Was she acting strange, or was it just my imagination?