ASSUMPTIONS [H.S.]

chapter 25

Pretend you're sleeping, Harry.

It isn't until she lets out a really faint but noticeable whimper that makes me shoot my eyes open but she's already gone out the door with the squeak of the mattress.

"Shit," I mutter under my breath, cursing at myself for being such a coward.

With ruffled hair, sleepy eyes, and a worried frown, I exit the cabin in hopes to rush after her. I heard the panic in her gasps — God knows what she could be doing in her state.

Having entered the hallway, I can't seem to spot her. I try rushing one direction, then the other but end up just doing stupid circles.

I have to take a moment to gather my thoughts and think thoroughly to figure out where she could've gone. Logically thinking, she couldn't have gone downstairs because there's nothing but dozens of cabins stretching through the lower decks.

She probably needs some fresh air. The only place that could provide such a thing is... the top deck. Of course.

In a matter of seconds, my feet have already flown over each other, taking double steps onto the steep staircase. My back feels sweaty from the exercise the damn strides are making me do.

With the last steps approaching, I reach for the door to the upper deck with a bit of apprehension. My sweaty palm slowly pushes the handle, and my breath is taken away from my lungs because I don't see her at first in the dark.

I stubbornly take another look over the wooden-floored place, with the help of the starlight finally noticing a gloomy figure standing pressed right to the railing.

I pause for a moment to take in this shocking sight as this is the lowest state I think I've ever seen her in — her shoulders are shaking but I don't think she's crying. Her palms are pressed against her eyes, and her back is turned to me, showing herself in quite a vulnerable way.

The most off-setting thing about this situation is that she's rocking back and forth to gather her thoughts but with each sway, more than half of her figure is bent over the guard rail.

I don't think she realizes how close she is to falling.

Instinctively, my feet carry me to where she's standing. Without thinking, I let my hand touch her shoulder, and it makes her flinch, so I immediately pull back.

She stops the swaying from shock, and removes her hands from her face, turning around to where she felt the unwanted touch. She looks at me through glassy eyes, and it's like she doesn't understand if she's still dreaming or not.

"Amber, what—"

"Please, go. I'll be okay on my own." Her tone is empty of every emotion, though it's quite convincing. If I had just met her, I would've absolutely believed her, and gone back to the room.

Though, something about the way her shaky hands push against my chest to nudge me out of this place tells me she has something else on her mind.

Her voice usually has a golden rasp to it but now it's just blank. Her eyes usually confine courage but now she's afraid to hold eye contact for more than a second.

I gently take her shaky hand in mine and softly pull her down to sit along with me onto the wooden floorboards of the deck. They're uncomfortably stiff and the metal railing is digging in my back but it seems safer this way.

I slip my hand out of her loose grip, and distance myself from her, now sitting a few feet apart from her.

"Can I just sit here next to you? I promise I'll be quiet." My question doesn't invoke anything in her, as she just nods in response.