Relapse / / h.s.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

   Elena's Point of View-

  The screeching marimba ringtone woke me out of my sleep and I groaned as I reached for my phone to shut it off. The sound of chirping along with the early morning birds echoed in through the open window as I lay in the dark, my eyes shut tight. I felt like a zombie, completely drained and practically immobile.  

   I stretched my arm over to the other side of the bed, reaching for someone but somehow knowing he wouldn't be here. I hoped he would be, but I knew better than that by now. Harry never stayed. Granted, the other night was an exception. I don't think he slept at all that night, though. I don't think any of them did.

  If I listened hard enough I could hear Mom downstairs, the metallic sound of pots and pans clanking together letting me know that breakfast would be ready soon. Mom always did the most- ever since Declan, I think paying maximum amount of attention to me was the only way she kept herself from falling off the deep end.

  Declan. God, I missed him. I missed him so much. I missed his laugh and I missed the music that always used to rattle the wall connecting our bedrooms. If he was here now, I would tell him that it didn't annoy me as much as I always said it did. There are so many things I would tell him if he were here.

My eyes burned with the after effects of crying and everything ached as I managed to slide on a dress and a pair of sandals. I put my hair in a bun, too exhausted with the events of the weekend to do much else with it. And after brushing my teeth, I headed downstairs to the kitchen where my Mom was practically assaulting a bowl of batter.

"'Morning Sunshine," She beamed, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her wrist. We looked so much alike, but if you were to compare us now I'm sure she looked more put together than I did. Even in her loose pajama shorts, my mother didn't look a day over thirty.

"Hey Momma," I muttered as I padded to the fridge, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. This wouldn't do anything for me. I needed coffee.

"I didn't expect you to be awake," she said it like it was a fact. Like I shouldn't be awake. What did she expect me to do? Wallow around in my room all day? "I'm making pancakes."

"I'm not really all that hungry."

"You have to eat something 'Lena," she pursed her lips as she added blueberries into the batter and poured the mix onto a pan on the stove. Another thing about mom was that ever since the accident, she was always cooking. She was a crazy cook before, but now she did it to keep herself busy.

"I know, mom," I sighed. I don't know what it was, but I was irritated. The smell of the pancakes made my stomach grumble against my will and I sat down in defeat, allowing her to set one on a plate in front of me.

We ate in silence. I didn't really have the energy to keep up with small talk. The clanking of our forks against our plates made conversation for us and she let me leave with only a peck to my forehead.

It was a typical July morning- cool but humid. The sun was just starting to come up. This was my favorite time of day. I was usually the only person out on the roads and it was like I was the only person left on the entire planet. Everything was different, like I could breathe better with every breath I took and every bird was chirping just for me.

I pulled into the parking lot and parked in my usual spot, looking for the familiar black truck, but not being surprised when it wasn't there. He never showed up before me. Knowing Harry, he was probably just rolling out of bed. I wish he'd get here sooner. I needed a hug.

The police station was surprisingly empty, but I could hear the murmurs through the walls of the detectives in the building next door. The only person in sight was Officer Gilbert who looked to be the toughest person in here, but always offered me the kindest smile as soon as I walked in.