Sugar. Why not?

The Downfall Of Us

Sofia's PoV

I've never slept here alone and I really don't like it. No I hate it.

I also hate the image I now have in my head of Patrick's terrified face. It makes sense now. The uncertainty I feel from him is fear while the uncertainty he will feel from me is confusion.

We're going back and forth far too much for it to be healthy. First he says he's not the best option for me then we shower together and make out. Now once again he's riddled with the thought that he's bad for me.

I had no idea what to think when I woke up in the hospital. Did he still want me? Was her angry? Could I be okay with the fact that he'd slept with someone else and believed my lie so easy?

Now I know the answers. He still wants me more than anything and the last he thing is, is angry. He didn't sleep with anyone and I can't blame him for believing what I said because it's clear now it has nothing to do with his faith in me. He never doubted me or my feelings. He doubted that I could love someone like him. It's self hate. It's horrible. I want to take it from him.

My eyes droop with exhaustion and I pray that my body will finally give in. I want this strange lonely feeling to go away. This bed is too big and with Patrick's scent all around me its only more obvious that he's not here.

I count my own breaths and try not to think about anything in particular but that's impossible.

This isn't going to work.

It's probably a bad idea to get up on my own but if I'm honest I'm a walking bad idea. Because good ideas are never fun.

Shifting to the side of the bed as slowly as possible, I bite my lip to keep a yelp escaping my lips. With one swift and painful movement I'm able to switch on the lamp on the bed side table. Sucking in a deep breath I try to get over the fact that it feels like I've ran a marathon just from doing that.

"Okay you can do this! Just gotta get up!" I mumble to myself, clutching my side.

My feet touch the ground and I count down in my head.

3...2...1...

With one hand on the bedside table and a lot of inner yelling I hoist myself to my feet. I immediately stumble a little but am able to stay upright. I find it crazy that there's nothing wrong with my legs apart from the odd ache and bruise but my ribs cause every movement to hurt. Every step twinges.

Wobbling and shuffling out of the room I make my way to the kitchen. A journey that usually takes about five seconds takes roughly three minutes. Which isn't easy in the dark either but I don't want to turn on any lights in case I wake Patrick in the living room.

Considering the open plan nature of this apartment there's nothing to really separate the two rooms.

I'm not sure what I'm planning to do right now. I just don't want to be in bed.

Glancing into the living room I can just about make out the couch and I squint to try and see Patrick lying there. I can't make anything out but that's probably because I don't have night vision.

My stomach rumbles as I reach the kitchen island so now I know what I can do. Eat. Anything.

How am I going to open the top cabinets? Or even the fridge? I can't exactly cook anything but there will definitely be a chocolate bar around here somewhere.

My slow and steady searching begins and I pull open the drawer that Patrick usually keeps all the candy. Yeah he's got a candy drawer. If I ever doubted he was my soul mate then finding this a few months ago only confirmed the fact.