Day 01: .03 (2/3)

After the train incident, Sebastian takes me home.

While I'm feeling numb, disheartened, and full of heart ache, Sebastian tries to help me by being my temporary anchor. He grabs my waist and straps me in his car, without a single word passing through his mouth, but his breath—soft and fluttering—covers itself with frost bite and the winter's temperate.

He slides into the driver seat, starts his car engine, takes one more good look at me, and drives me home. I think at the time, my mind was racing, feeling the aftermath of death constantly at my door, my fingertips as frozen as my mind. So, as a consequence, I didn't question how he knew where I lived, or how he knew where to find me in the first place; I was too upset, too shook up to even open my eyes, afraid that if I opened them, I would go through death again.

"Are you cold?" I hear Sebastian ask me, but I don't respond—I lack any forms of response—I keep my eyes shut, and my mouth closed. I only shake my head and let out a soft whimper, too afraid of the possibility of tears spilling out again if I open my mouth to answer. I feel a lose tear leave my eyes, so this fails.

I hear Sebastian click something on before suddenly, vents blast warm air in the car, making me shiver less in my seat.

By the time I'm fully heated up, warm and cozy in Sebastian small, beat-up car, the car halts to a stop, signaling the end of our journey.

Sebastian parks in front of my house and opens the driver's car door, stepping out and shutting it closed. A few seconds later, I hear my door open, and Sebastian unbuckles me from my seat. I open my eyes to his looking straight at me, piercing me like bullets on my warm skin. It's still cold; winter's heart ache covers the sky in frost and clear fog, little droplets of snow icing Sebastian's car and even the bridges of my ears, but his gaze, as iced and cut throat as it seems, illuminates a warmth—one I can't pinpoint or understand—but I hide in it, with all my complex compassions and fears.

"We're here." Sebastian said. He ducks his head out of my side of the car and stands straight, backing up a few inches, waiting for me to move. I lift myself up and step out the car, my body still slightly shaking, but not from the weather's wrath, but from the aftermath of fear.

Sebastian watches me, his bright eyes spectacle. "Hey, let me…"

"I-it's okay, I'm fine," I said, sniffing, holding myself and attempting to keep myself together, but I know I'm not fine, but I try to be. I walk, slowly, obscurely slow to the front porch's steps. Sebastian stays where he is, leaning against the car door, watching me with a hesitant expression, yet his stance looks like he'll be ready to race forward if needed be.

I make it to the front door, and raise my shaking hands. It takes so much just to stand, so much to keep my eyes open without shutting them and keeping them closed, unable to look at my fears in the face. I should be thinking of how I didn't die today, but all I'm thinking about is how bad my mum's going to kill me for damaging my car, or how I didn't finish my homework assignment due in a few days, or-.

I finally gain some nerves to ring the doorbell, my eyes trained to the ground. It takes a few minutes before Zachary comes to the door, his phone in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. Someone on the other end of the call rustles, saying something frizzled out by the WIFI connection.

"Well, look who it is that finally fucking showed up-holy shit what happened to you?" Zachary snorts, eyeing me up and down. "Did your coach beat you up that bad?" He asked.

I stand there, silent, before taking a deep breath and sliding past Zachary, the kitchen, and living room, up the stairs, and to my bedroom. "Where the hells your car-?"

Zachary yells from the front door. "Hey! What the hell-?!"

I shut my door, lock it, lean against it, and close my eyes, breathing slowly through my nose; my lungs ready to collapse; my being ready to relapse, attempting to crawl itself in some sort of haven—some safe place—anywhere where it feels normal and sane—anywhere but here.

I stay like that; I stay situated into nothingness and emptiness, yet loud, chaotic hammering plunders in my chest and through my thoughts that ring in my head. Then, suddenly, through this chaotic melody, I hear Zachary mumble a few things before hanging up the facetime call he was on, until mum and pops arrive together, my dad telling my brother how crazy the traffic was to get home after picking my mom up from the train station. Apparently because of a car accident on the tracks, the back roads were closed off too.

I stay like that until my parents knock on my door, I stay like that until Zachary ask them "what's wrong with him?" I stay like that until I can't breathe normally anymore. I stay like that until I'm out of breath, tears staining my cheeks and it hurts too much to breath. I stay like that until I slide against the door, my hands on my chest and my eyes dripping crystals down my face. I stay like that until I can hear my parents knock aggressively against the door, pleading with me to open it, until I hear my heart pounding, pleading to escape, knowing it's caged in bones and tormented hollowing.

I stay like this until I can't stay like this anymore, walking to my bed and covering myself in all the blankets I can.

I fall asleep like that, in a soft prison, pleading for God to have mercy on me.

I plead, and plead, and plead until I fall asleep, asking in my prayers to stay alive this time, to not meet masked men and snow and blood and stained feathers.

I pray to God and ask him for me not to meet death again.