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Chapter Five

Chapter Five:

Days passed, and it has already been a week since the ceremony. Within that week I began to see Warner more and more. He had apologized in the room at about a quarter passed midnight, for not fulfilling his promise of coming back to check up on me, but I forgave him. Surprisingly enough, I also found my way to the dining room without getting lost the morning after.

I was sat next to Warner during breakfast.

I didn't realize how close I was to him till I picked up his scent. Roasted coffee and cologne. It was strong and warm. Quite intoxicating.

Wait? I was suddenly smelling him now? What has gotten into me?

Munching on my waffles, I hastily moved my gaze away from him.

Ever since the fainting I haven't been seeing Eli around lately. I frowned, he may have scared me a bit, but he was the first 'friend' I've made here. Or at least, the first person who talked to me.

I turned to Archie who was sitting to my right and tapped his shoulder. "Hey Archie?"

The half-eaten breakfast was left for a moment as he turned to me. "Yeah?" He mumbled with a mouth full of bacon and rice.

I let out a little cough, "Have you seen Eli lately?" I asked taking a nervous sip of my orange juice.

He swallowed with a big gulp before replying with a, "Nope, haven't. Why don't you look in Dr. Jill's office? She is his mother after all." It crossed my mind that they were mother and son. I guess I thought they were too different to be related.

"Oh."

With that, we continued eating our breakfasts. I had my mindset on going to the greenhouse again. To maybe get some fresh air and calm myself down.

The greenhouse was open, and thankfully no one so far had asked me where I was going, which I was thankful for.

Being inside the little haven that was the greenhouse gave me some sense of sanity; I felt free. All thoughts of what has happened the past few days of my life, gone and replaced it was the beauty and serenity of this place.

I know it's weird; plants make me calm. But I guess we all have that fetish that everyone thinks is a little strange.

I was the only one there, other than the little birds in the trees or flowers and the occasional butterflies settling down on the petals on one of the many exotic flowers.

One particular bird caught my eye, though. It was my favorite bird, a nightingale. It was a songbird at heart, and every time I would get the chance to see one I would sing a particular tune,

"Sing, sweet nightingale. Sing, sweet nightingale,"

I quietly began to hum, then sing the lyrics of the simple tune. It was my favorite song. Mother used to sing it to me whenever I felt bad. She had a lovely voice. I'd said that she'd be a great singer one day, but she just laughed softly and just continued to hum. Just until I fell asleep.

"Sing sweet nightingale, sing sweet nightingale high above me. . ."

The little bird seemed to want to play too, and decided to join me. I had always envied birds. How they sang so well, the way they could always fly away whenever something bad happened. How they could soar through the clouds with ease.

The nightingale settled beside me and I gasped, I had never been this close to a bird before. It hopped closer to my side and settled by the tips of my fingers. But I smiled and continued,

"Oh sing, sweet nightingale. . . Sing, sweet nightingale,"

And it did, the little songbird, now resting on my fingers, sang along.