Bear | ✔

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

The air smelled like cold metal as it swarmed the room. Food tasted like rusting iron. It was even worse than her own cooking. She almost pitied whoever was obligated to go through that experience. The place was uncomfortable; tension floating around them. The clock ticked lightly in the background. Every peep was like a slice to her heart, going on deeper until there was nothing left to destroy. Leila stared down at her untouched mug of coffee. It was a failure attempt to keep her awareness motivated. But the exhaustion only got the best of her, drowning her into a state of suffocating unconsciousness.

"I have to go home and bring a fresh set of clothes," Nancy announced, setting her own mug of latte down on the metal table. She grasped her clutch tightly between her manicured fingers. "I'll only by a short time. Will you be okay on your own?"

Leila mumbled an, "I'll be fine," for the hundredth time in the span of a few days. Every time the words slipped past her lips, she felt her heart constrict even more. It was a lie. She knew it; everybody knew it. The question wasn't necessarily to make sure she'd be fine. It was only the confirmation of whether or not she had been listening to their words.

Nancy pushed her chair back with a screech. She stood up and headed to the door leading out of the cafeteria, but not without the regular, completely useless pat on the back she gave her.

Leila looked over her mug of steaming liquid. Her eyes scanned the surroundings. People were scattered all over the place; backs hunched, shoulders slumped, a frown concealing their unbearable hopefulness to hold on. They were all as desperate as she was. They were all going through the same swirl of drama, but unlike her, those people didn't have the choice. They had to keep going.

She had the chance once, to flee for her life and never be seen again after that. She had been through a lot, experienced a lot, learnt a lot. Yet it didn't feel enough. It wasn't just the end yet. Nothing ever felt enough for her.

Her hand curled around the handle of her mug. The heat seeped through the thick walls of the container, burning through the cells of her fingers. She didn't care. It was like she had lost every nerve of feeling ever since she had stepped into that property.

The view in front of her seemed to split lengthwise into two. Everything was a haze of spluttering colors. Flicks of light sparkled within the weird silhouettes that swayed in the distance. The white paint of the walls darkened in the dim light from the lamps. The sun was setting in the horizon. A few rats filtered through the translucent windows that took up most of the northern wall. She felt a sting run through her veins, making her squint.

"Leila! Over here." A call startled her and she saw a figure blocking her view. The blur in her vision diminished in a heartbeat, quickly revealing Rosaline on the opposite seat of her table, just where her mother just sat. She waved her hand right before Leila to catch her attention. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Leila replied, dragging every letter more than necessary. She lowered her mouth to take a sip without lifting the mug from the surface of the table. The hot liquid blazed fire, burning her throat as it slid down to an empty belly. Her stomach churned in response at the scorching pain.

"No! You're not. Nobody is, anymore." Rosaline heaved a sigh and held her head in her hand, while resting her elbow on the table.

"What did the doctors say?" Leila asked, avoiding her sister-in-law's gaze. "Nancy refused to tell me anything. She feared for my health, or so she said," She ended her sentence with a snort and a shake of her head. No woman would discard her child for almost quarter a decade and then magically develop a fear for their health.