Miles was discharged the next day. He gripped the discharge papers with clenched fists. He watched the trees roll by. The roar of the car offered him a wave of familiarity. As with his sanitizer.
He would have almost relaxed. Allowed himself to forget all that had happened within a span of two days. But, she was here.
He watched her from his periphery. Her features were set. Her eyes remained on the road. She gripped the steering wheel a little too tight.
By now, Miles was sure that she would have felt his continuous glances. Yet, she refused to look up. Something that he was grateful for. Yet, he hated. Because now, she felt unpredictable.
She was almost never this quiet.
She was quick to anger. Had an awful temper. Yet, here she was. Quiet. One that he was sure that he must have given her one too many times.
Now you know how it feels.....
And that was even the least. The fact that she'd seen him. Caught him in one of his meltdowns. Miles bit his lip. A sharp tang of copper filled his mouth but he ignored it.
Now she knew. Maybe not everything. But a trickle. More than she should know.
That made him uncomfortable. His mind traveled down memory lane as the car turned down another road.
"I warned you, Miles." Doris shook her head, her forehead creased in worry.
"I kn-ow I just-"
"You just what? I told you to stop overworking yourself, didn't I? I told you to take it down a notch. Have fun. Read a book. Just do something!"
Miles felt guilty. Doris almost never raised her voice. She was naturally cheerful. Hard to anger.
His eyebrows wrinkled.
"And talk to someone, Miles. Anyone. Stop pushing us away. You're hurting yourself more than you can ever realize."
"I just..... I don't wa-nt to be a bot-her."
"Miles, we care. You have people in your life to share your burdens with you. A burden shared is a problem half solved."
Miles blinked. Another headache pressed against his skull. It had been rampant ever since he'd woken up earlier in the day. Doris told him it was one of the withdrawal symptoms kicking in.
Miles read one word in the discharge paper. Stared at it as though it wasn't from this planet. It soured his tongue like a bitter pill.
The saliva in his mouth was difficult to swallow.
Therapy.
Doris handed him the discharge papers.
Miles read it and his eyes bulged.
"Therapy? You can't be seri-ous. I don't have tim-e for therapy-"
"So you don't have time to take care of yourself? Or do you want to be back here by next week?"
"That isn't wh-at I mean-"
"Then what is it? The cardiac referrals and rest are just as important as you getting therapy. Getting you out of your head. Stopping the nightmares."
Miles swallowed. He refused to meet her burning, probing gaze.
"I still remember the day we found you in that graveyard. Almost unconscious. Dead, even. That.....it still gives me nightmares. That a boy your age would have to go through so much. Lose a home. Seek refuge in a graveyard."
Doris leaned closer, taking his hands in her own.
"But I want to protect you. Even though you're no longer living with us. I want you to be free. To seek help. Live a normal life. Please do this. If not for you, then for me."
Miles nodded reluctantly.
"And maybe, give your sister a chance. It's obvious she has your best interests at heart."
Miles gritted his teeth. He suddenly had the urge to tear the paper. Burn it. Just destroy it.
His hands trembled. Miles took in a shaky breath before exhaling again.
***
Bella slid a plate of noodles across the table towards him.
Miles forked it warily. It smelt the way he would prepare his own noodles. Sesame oil. Ginger. Garlic.
"What is th-is?"
"A plate of noodles. Did the coffee hurt your eyes too?'
"No I just-" he cut himself short as though not sure what to make of it. "Why prepare lun-ch?"
"Cause I knew you'd be hungry. Eat it before it gets cold." She waved him off before going back to her phone.
Gingerly, he brought the fork to his lips and was surprised at the explosion of flavor in his mouth as soon as he swallowed a bite. His stomach grumbled, reawakening from its numb state.
"How d-id you learn how to co-ok this?"
It tasted exactly the same way he would cook it. The garlic. Fried onions. Sesame oil. Everything. He took another bite again.
"Well, let's just say I had a good teacher." Bella shrugged nonchalantly.
First she was quiet. Now she was being .... Nice?
Miles felt even more uncomfortable now
His stomach coiled.
Miles pushed the plate away. Bella looked up at him with a raised brow.
"Thank you. But I don't w-ant this. You shou-ld eat."
Bella rolled her eyes. "Why do you always make everything seem like a big deal? Eat it. Seriously."
The lump lodged in his throat like a new tenant. He tried to shake off the guilt that gripped him hard. But it only got worse. With every bite, it was like the flame grew.
Burning him from inside out.
Finished, he stood up with the plate in hand. She didn't look up as she was still searching through her phone.
He held the plate in a death grip. Tight. Unyielding. The way the box of memories sat at the corner of his mind. Barred with lock and key.
Yet, he wanted to be released. From the stress. From the darkness that hung over him. That haunted him in his dreams.
His lips suddenly grew heavy. Numb. His throat knotted. Miles tried. Only a shallow exhale tumbled past his lips, following a sharp sting.
What if she doesn't want to hear? No one wants to carry a worthless person's cargo. Don't be so weak! Act like a man!
His shoulders tensed. So, he left. Washed his plate and went to his room.
As soon as he entered, Miles noticed that the table where he kept some of his journals and old files was in disarray. He took a few minutes to clean everywhere.
He only stopped when everywhere was spick span. Without a smudge or speckle of dust.
He sat on his bed before opening the novel that Doris had also given him after the discharge papers.
"Start with this. It'll clear your mind a little."
Miles had never been a fan of novels. He felt like they were a waste of time. Time he could have probably used to do something beneficial. But with no job, and now mandated to rest he had little else to do.
Miles opened the book and began to read. Page. After page. After page. He devoured it.
But, along the line, the words blurred. The sentences became only blotches. Black slowly oozed into his vision.
Then sleep claimed him.
***
Miles was in a dark room.
There were mirrors. Every where. They lined every corner of the wall. Every turn. Every bend. It was an endless maze of mirrors that caught his reflection.
He stared back at his reflection. Dark eyes. Eye bags. Chapped lips. .
He took a deep breath. One mirror lit up. It didn't hum. Neither didn't mutter. Instead, it sparked. Hisses of light exploded into his sight, physically destabilizing the world he was in.
In the next intake of breath, he was somewhere else.
A hospital room. There was a buzz of movement-a blur even. Doctors without faces rushed around. Nurses skipped. A woman wailed.
The temperature fluctuated between hot and cold. Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold.
"Push. He's almost here. Push."
Another set of wails echoed in the room. Blistered. Pain filled. Tormented.
Then there was silence. Then a small cry. One that neither belonged to an adult nor child.
Miles tried to see past the blur of bodies.
"Bring me my baby!" A familiar voice snapped. He knew it. It stirred something strange in him. Anger. Sadness. Dejection.
Then there was silence. Not one centered on love. Or peace. Or joy. But confusion.
"What's this?"
"Ma'am calm down-"
A wet, heavy thud echoed. The silence was deafening. It was like a slice of meat toppled to the floor.
Miles couldn't see. But he felt a sharp ache in his chest. One that burnt from so deep. Deeper than he could ever explain. His stomach lurched. A belt tightened around his torso like a chain. Clenching his skin like it were fabric.
She'd dropped her baby.
She dropped him.
A conversation spiked from within him as the horrified nurses and doctors shot into action.
" Play with him. He's our son. Your son-"
"No. Don't you dare. I'm not obliged to love the bastard even though he survived the fall."
The world spiraled. The colors unraveled, bleeding out in murky flashes. With another blink, Miles was somewhere else.
He swallowed. The room was quite luxurious. Bright yellow curtains. White tiles. Glinting chandelier. Stunning tapestries. His knuckles clenched until they turned white.
A woman stood at the very edge of the room, with her back to him. Her back was straight. Her hands were almost clenched.
"Why did you come here?"
Her words echoed in the silence. It screeched. Like fingernails dragging down drywalls.
Miles' ears prickled. He winced.
"I-"
"I told you never to return, didn't I?"
"No. I j-"
"Isn't it enough that you're still alive?" She turned to him, shrieking. Her eyes blazed. Her nails lengthened to knives. She approached him. Tightened mouth. Flared nostrils.
Miles jerked back as soon as her talons sliced through the sticky air.
It only missed him by inches. Miles sputtered. Unable to process what she was saying.
"Bu-t you're my mo-"
"Don't call me that! I only have one child!"
As if on cue, giggles floated through the air. The smell of lavender thickened, curling through the air with purple fumes. Soft. Majestic.
Beautiful.
Then Bella appeared beside her. She wore a stunning blue gown, her voluminous hair combed back. Her light eyes sparkled even in the dim lighting.
She gave him a dazzling smile. Her mother nodded, her features softening.
Miles' cheeks warmed when he realized he was wearing a dirty singlet and khaki shorts.
"Bella is my legacy. My dream. My child. My star. And if you ever come close to her, or as much as taint her-" She glared down, dark eyes glowing with malice.
"- I'll make you regret your very existence!"
They disappeared. The ground shuddered. Cracks shot through the tiles. Box by box fell to nothingness. Disintegrating. Dying.
Miles tried to run but the fractures caught up to him. Gravity took hold of him. Then he fell through the pungent darkness.
His head slammed against stone. He jerked awake. Stars danced in his eyes. It took moments to settle the ringing in his ears. And the blood that spun in the background.
His back prickled. The icy temperature in the air didn't let. He had a feeling that he wasn't alone.
Alcohol. The stench permeated the room . The black fumes tore past him, skittering over his skin. It lined his back with goosebumps.
Miles tried to stand up. Stretch his hands. Move his legs. But, he was stuck. Unmoving. Without control.
Prey.
Then he came.
A maniacal smile twisted his features. His shirt was haphazardly buttoned. The singlet underneath was dirty. His shorts hung low.
He took another swig from the bottle.
Miles' heart beat faster. Harder. His struggles worsened. He clawed. He screamed. He shook. Anything. Everything.
Yet, he couldn't escape. Couldn't fight.
His father advanced. One step. Two step. Then three. Then, he galloped. Like a viper that finally found someone to sink his fangs in.
His father landed on him. Punched him hard.
His father reached for his neck with a bloody dagger.
Miles stumbled out of bed with a scream. Loud. Strangled. His stomach ached as though his father had actually punched it.
His father flashed in different corners of his dark room. The laughs. The sneers. The alcohol.
Miles bolted to the door. He flung it open with so much force that it would have almost teetered. He climbed down the staircase. Then entered the kitchen.
Bella turned as soon as he entered the kitchen.
She gave him a confused look. Miles pushed her aside before running through the cupboards where he kept his coffee bags. Nothing.
They were empty.
He tried the next. Nothing. Then the next. Nothing.
"No."
"Miles, you're scaring-"
He grabbed the jug at the corner before bringing it to his lips. Nothing.
No. No. His hands trembled. His body felt weak.
"You can't run from me now."
"Where's my coff-ee?"
"I threw it out. The doctor said-"
"Well, get it b-ack!"
Miles gripped the cabinet tight. His heart burnt. His stomach suddenly felt porous. Like everything from this afternoon was slowly rising. A ferocious headache shook his world.
Dots danced in his sight. His steps became wobbly.
"Miles. Calm-"
He vomited. The stench of puke assailed his nostrils. Alcohol. Blood. He retched. Again. And again. All his strength left him.
He collapsed. The world turned around him. The colors became too bright. The sounds too loud. The headache too painful. He tried to steady himself but his hand slipped along vomit.
Then he fell unconscious -falling to prey to the darkness. And Bella's scream was his last tether to reality.
***
Miles woke up with a start. He scoured the room. Blinking. Heart pounding. Shaking.
"Hey, easy." A familiar voice spoke. Then he felt someone touch his shoulder. His shoulders sagged. The tension gave way a little.
The hand guided him to his previous lieing position.
The figure stood before him. Blurred. He was sure he knew them but he couldn't pinpoint. The confusion almost caused another round of headaches.
"Who are y-ou?" He croaked.
"A safe place." The figure patted his shoulder again.
"Rest."
Knowing someone was watching him, he felt a little more at ease. Like nothing would happen.
That his father wouldn't kill him.
His heavy eyes closed.
Then he slept.
***
Miles woke up again. He felt rather light headed. He wasn't sure why.
"Do you feel better now?"
He groaned as he rubbed his eyes. Miles turned and found Bella staring at him with concern.
"What ti-me is it?"
Bella sighed. "2am."
Miles scratched his head. The last time he checked the time it was 6pm. That was before-
He slept off. Had a nightmare. Tried to get coffee. Vomited. Then passed out -in front of Bella. Again.
His throat tightened. He stood up and walked to the kitchen. He was sure that Bella was watching him as he entered.
The kitchen floors were clean. There was no dirt. No vomit. It sparkled.
And the drawers were empty.
Miles led himself back to the living room. He felt like a shell. Lifeless. Like a husk that just..... existed.
Drained.
He sat down on the sofa. Bella tossed him a bottle of water. He was barely able to catch it.
"Drink. Doctor's orders."
She went back to reading again. Miles took one gulp before allowing it to glide down his throat. He winced.
Miles expected the question. What happened? Why was he so scared?
Bella was silent. She didn't speak. She just continued about her day. Now, she was reading a book.
Even if she asked would you even answer?
You're such a hypocrite.
His lungs constricted. Bella went to the kitchen before reappearing with a bag of chips too. She tossed it to him before she fell silent again.
The silence didn't console him. It didn't break the heaviness. Or completely dissolve the suffocation.
"You didn't ta-ke me to the hosp-ital?"
Bella snickered. "At this time? Not a chance."
Miles swallowed again. The words felt bitter. It got stuck. Caught in a coil of hesitance that refused to break open.
He coughed. Then breathed a small, "Tha-nk you."
"What?"
"I... I said tha-nk you."
"Oh." Bella tapped the arm of her chair then nodded. "It's fine."
She still didn't ask. The suffocating weight of all the nights passed pressed harder on his shoulders. Choking. Un-relentless.
Bella laughed at something.
Miles wanted to laugh. Laugh. Sleep. Smile. He just wanted this off his chest. He wanted out of this cloud that swarmed around him. Suffocating him while everyone else lived in oblivion.
He wanted an end to the dark memories. The thoughts. The alcohol soaked death threats. The blood. Everything. He just wanted it all to end.
Because he was tired. Absolutely, tired.
"I..... I h-ad a nightm-are."