Subterranean | H.S.

S18

Persephone's pov

A thud wakes me up. 

I don't open my eyes, I don't move a single muscle, I don't let the outside world know that I'm awake. 

I'm trying not to move my eyes and listen to whatever's happening. 

I feel like I've been asleep for half an hour and I'm not relaxed at all. I wonder what time is it, but I wait. I wait until it's the right time.

I hear someone moving around, I guess it's Jack. He scuffles against the floor in his living room, looking for something. The cabinets are being opened and closed, objects are thrown against each other and he's cussing loudly. Every sound sends shivers down my spine.

When I hear him opening the bedroom door my heartbeat is so fast, I'm afraid that my heart will start hurting by the time he's finally gonna leave me alone. 

No other movement is heard, which means that he's observing me. I stay still, patiently waiting for him to go somewhere else. I hear him breathing heavily.

This goes on for what feels like forever, and when I feel like my heart can't take it anymore the door is closed. I don't open my eyes until I hear another thud, letting me know that he left his apartment. 

Just like I got out of the water and haven't breathed for five minutes I abruptly sit on the bed and take a deep, loud breath. 

I place my cold hand on my chest, trying to calm down.

I turn my head to look at my phone and when I see that it's still on the nightstand I'm reaching for it and taking it. The clock says that it's seven in the morning, which means that I haven't gotten enough sleep. 

What is he doing at seven in the morning on Sunday?

With a confused look on my face, I'm putting the duvet beside my body, sliding it off me. I put my feet on the floor and stand up, slowly. I'm taking fast steps, reaching for the door handle and pushing it down.

I gasp when I see the mess he left after himself.

All of the kitchen cabinets are open. Multiple objects lay on the floor and counters, from spoons, forks, and plates to different medicaments, clothes, and papers. I've never seen such chaos in my life. 

And I thought that when my mother was scolding me for having four dresses out of my wardrobe, on my bed, was the biggest disorder I've ever seen, just because I couldn't decide which one I wanted to wear. 

I move my eyesight further, looking at the trashed living room and my jaw goes slack. The actual coffee table, the poor little wooden object, is broken into three pieces. It was my favorite. I'm surprised the TV is still in one piece.

How the hell did I not hear all of that? 

Half of the apartment is absolutely demolished. 

What was he possibly looking for, that made him create such a mess with such a rage? 

Carefully, looking where I'm pacing, I'm standing next to medicine boxes, laying on the countertop. I pick some of them up and I'm shocked when I realize half of them are different forms and portions of painkillers, from those that you can easily get at the pharmacy, to those that are only available in hospitals, after surgeries, very strong ones.

Most people are not taking painkillers seriously, but they can make people addicted. Most of them also don't know that overdosing on paracetamol brings slow and painful death. 

Different thoughts run through my mind, but only two stay for a little longer. 

He has to be either selling those or taking them.