Miles threw up.
His throat tightened, his body convulsing. Brown stained murky waters spurted out of his mouth with every burp of vomit. The putrid smell assailed his nostrils as soon as he stopped, exhausted. A light cloud settled on his head as the sparkling spotted tiles shone, blurring and criss-crossing right before his eyes. Even with trembling limbs, he stood, skin bleached and pale. He staggered to the door, a sway in his step as the acrid taste still lingered in his mouth
He dragged himself to the chair albeit the drumming headache that suddenly began to drum at his temples. The case files that would normally be arranged neatly were strewn across the table, the coffee mug empty as always. The scratchy scream that emanated from his throat continued to haunt him, even though minutes had gone by since he had woken up. Since that encapsulating fear had pressed his bones so hard, he feared they would break and shatter into pieces.
Miles sat down and groggily looked about. Every single sound was loud in the silence. The scratching of his window, the low whir of the blades of the fan, the dim tick of the clock. Each and everyone left a sense of dread in his system as he took his cup for a refill. As soon as he stood up, all the colors seemed to close in on each other, overruning. But after a few minutes of catching his breath while using the wall as leverage, his limbs regained strength and he pushed on.
He walked to the kitchen, not without the familiar feeling of dread crawling down his spine. Feelings that he hated himself for still having up until now. An image of his younger self going up the staircase flitted through his mind. He forced himself not to be dragged into that mental image but his hands grasped onto his left shoulder, where a long C shaped scar drew across his skin.
Miles flipped the light switch on and walked into the kitchen, his steps lightly breaking the heavy, choking silence. The curtains of the windows to his left, lifted, bringing the fresh aroma of incoming rain. Miles stopped at the counter before placing his cup in the coffee maker and filling another cup of pre- prepared coffee for himself. He brought the coffee and was about to drink it when he felt a hand tap on his shoulder.
Heart pounding, it slipped out of his hands as he moved to get away from the image in his mind. Bloodshot eyes. Dark hands. Alcohol stained breath. Immediately, the world began to blur as the headache and heart wrenching squeezes returned. Once again, like the darkness that overshadowed the sunlit sky, he was overshadowed by the staggering smell of blood that dragged on every single tile on their house. The jilted tilt of his drunken songs that could have made all the people that gathered at his opera to weep in distaste and the alcohol induced smile that claimed every muscle in his face. That made Miles still every single time he looked at him. Looked at the man that had lived with him all his life.
"Miles?!"
Miles jerked out of it, breathing heavily and hard. Bella was looking at him with an unreadable expression.
Oh no.
He pushed himself off the floor quickly, trying to dust himself off whilst avoiding her gaze. Miles didn't like that his hands were still shaking. He pressed them together to keep them still.
"Are you sick?"
"Aren't you suppos-ed to be asle-ep?"
He turned away from her, hoping that she wouldn't pry further.
"Asleep?! How am I supposed to be asleep when all I can hear is someone screaming like a tortured child?!"
He pushed past her as he picked up the coffee cup and shook his head at the mess he had made of the floor. As he was about to grab a mop, Bella grabbed his hand and pulled him with surprising strength and the look in her eyes made him internally wince.
"Why are you acting so weird?"
"Well I'm tir-ed, what do you exp-ect?" His voice came out harder than he intended it to.
"Of course, aren't you always?" She drawled out which made Miles grit his teeth as he pulled away from her.
"I really th-ink you should be g-etting some sl-eep."
"Really? Do I bother you that much?" Bella gave a smirk to which he clenched his fists before exhaling loudly.
"I ha-ve no idea wh-at you're talking about."
He walked to the very edge of the kitchen where the mop was beside the dustbin, he grabbed it before pulling it along, all the while while avoiding her eyes.
"You're the one that screamed, weren't you?"
"I do-n't see why you should bo-ther yours-elf with that." He gave a forced smile.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
"And ev-en if I did, wh-at does it matte-r to you?"
"Why are you always avoiding my questions?"
"Why are you always asking questions?"
"Look-"
"Can't yo-u just lea-ve me alone?! I have work to do."
Bella stopped and looked like she was about to say something as her eyes became darker but instead she decided against it. Instead, she huffed before turning on her heel and stomping away. As soon as she was gone, he leaned against the kitchen cabinet, gripping it shakily as he forced himself to take deep breaths.
Taking another cup in hand and filling it, he finally had his bitter cup of coffee to himself. The temporary burst of energy it gave only slightly sealed the hole in his chest.
A hole that seemed to reopen every night that he fell asleep, every night that he saw him.