Saving Grace (editing)

21: grace // Lights

t w e n t y - o n e

The shadows that clouded my mind, they were still there.

The memories of the past still haunted me.

Running turned out utterly and devastatingly useless.

I had been scarred too deep for there to be possibly any fading, let alone healing.

My sleeping pattern was improving at least.

This hospital bed was somewhat foreign so I could at least, for a moment, forget.

However I would find myself jolting awake just about every night, cold and sweating from the dreams that were once reality and instead had morphed into horrible nightmares.

I wake up yet I don't even feel the slightest relief that they were only dreams.

Everything else had been and was still so raw and real.

So tonight... I spent the night awake, gazing out the large window in my room.

It provided a vast view of the city lights that never blinked and were constant, always awake and alive..

The opposite of me.

If only the stars were visible, but I at least knew they were up there, somewhere, looking down, somehow.

Were the stars disappointed in how I tunred out to be?

Before my thoughts could wander any further, I hear a knock on the door.

Turning, I see a figure standing by the door, shrugging off his jacket and scarf as he enters.

He doesn't say anything as he walks until he is standing right beside me where I am sitting. He turns his head in the direction of the window.

I look up at him, expecting him to be gazing at the view but he has his eyes shut, and I notice the tiredness in his face before he even opens his eyes.

The usual clearness of his eyes are dull.

"Hey." I whisper, shuffling over so that he can sit.

He stays silent but nonetheless accepts the spot beside me.

A pause passes.

"I... I saw my mum before."

"Yeah?"

He gives a stiff nod, his forehead furrowing as a faint frown etches itself on his face.

More silence.

And then a sigh.

"She's... not getting any better."

"Elliot, she's goi-"

"No." His voice interupts suddenly, "Don't say she's going to be okay. She isn't, she's actually getting worse. She's dying. SHE IS ACTUALLY GOING TO DIE."

The silence that follows immeditely after this outburst is almost trivial, only the buzz of machines whirring in the background.

His shoulders slump down in defeat, taking in a ragged breath.

His face is intense with frustration.

I know it's not at me. I get it.

I see the moment this anger shifts, and he turns to look me, apology clear in his expression.

"I'm-"

I shake my head, placing my hand on top of his where it is clenched on his lap. He stops talking.

"It's alright. I... I understand."

He remains silent but I see as his eyes begin to murk like puddles.

He lets out a shaky sigh and looks down to his lap, staying quiet for a moment.

"God, Grace." He chokes out, "I..."

He shakes his head before whispering, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so-"

I'm a bit startled at first but I finally realise he isn't apologising about his outburst anymore. He's apologising about something entirely different.

And when he looks up, I suddenly know why.

Usually I'd feel complete dread at someone's pity as it would make me small. Lesser than I already was. It would my skin itch and my insides curl inward. I had been on the receiving end of such reaction too many times to possibly count yet each time never failed to make me want to scream.

But this isn't pity.

No it isn't.

And I don't feel dread.

Because...

He is validating me.

Validating all the pain and grief I had endured. He doesn't even know exactly what but he knows that it's there.

I don't ask when he found out or how he knew.

Instead, I take an unsteady breath in and place both hands on his shoulders, perhaps more so to steady myself rather than to anchor him.

He stops speaking when I do this and we stare at each other, the city lights glowing faintly in the distance. I notice that it illuminates the side of his face, almost masking away his evident tiredness.

"Thank you." I whisper. It's quiet because I don't think I could cope speaking any louder or any more with the overwhelming feeling that fills up the crevices in my chest.

A feeling that moves in and out. Almost alive.

He reaches his hand up to wipe under my eyes and I didn't even realise that I was crying.

I choke out a watery laugh and still, Elliot smiles back.

For the first time in a while, I feel like maybe everything will be okay.