The show must go on

Chapter 30 - rock bottom

Once in the hotel room, I made sure we got to bed as quickly as possible. All the stress was starting to show on myself and I was more than ready to call it a night. As we stood side by side in front of the bathroom mirror, I looked with great horror into the sink where she had just spat her toothpaste into.

"Why is there blood?", I tried to ask as calmly and casually as possible. But inside I was freaking out.

"I have some sores on my gums," she explained tiredly, not wanting me to stress or worry. The doctor said it was normal as she is sensitive in general. He advised her not to brush her teeth and since she vehemently resisted this advice, it should come as no surprise. But it caused an uneasy feeling that I couldn't really suppress. She was so tired that she didn't even notice my looks at her.

She literally fell into bed and I quickly followed suit, more exhausted than I'd like to admit. I checked the alarm clock for tomorrow before I took the already half-asleep Jade into my arms and quickly joined her.

But the night turned out to be shorter than I thought...

Suddenly I woke up. Everything in the room was dark. Only scattered lights from the nightlife in Glasgow shone in. The sun had not yet risen. I blinked into the darkness a few times, trying to make out my surroundings, before reaching over to the side of the bedside table to pick up my phone. 

3:15 in the morning. 

What the hell.

As I sleepily pondered why I had woken up at that hour, I instinctively placed my hand on the other side of the bed. It was empty.

"Jade?", I asked into the darkness and quickly sat up and switched on the light beside the bed. With narrowed eyes, I looked into the room, but I didn't see her anywhere.

"Jade?", I asked again louder and suddenly I heard something. A soft whimper.

I immediately jumped up, falling over my own legs in my haste. But when I finally stood, I froze for a moment. There she was, lying stomach first on the floor, crying softly to herself.

I quickly pulled myself out of my stupor and rushed to her side. I knelt in front of her, at her head, but had no idea what was going on or what I could even do.

Carefully, I put a hand on her back and asked softly, "Hey, what's wrong? What happened?"

But she didn't answer, she didn't respond in any war. She just kept crying. And I felt helpless.

"Are you in pain? What is it?", I cried desperately now, but she still made no effort to explain herself in any way, to answer in any way. And that's when I got scared. What if she couldn't answer? What if she couldn't speak? What if she was in such agony that she was physically unable to get a proper sound out of her?

Without thinking, I turned her onto her back so I could look into her face. I know her better than I know myself by now. I know every expression on her face. And she didn't look like she was in unbearable pain. Those weren't tears of pain. Those were tears of sadness and misery.