Saving Grace (editing)

27: grace // Mugs

t w e n t y - s e v e n

I am in another of my chaotic, dark imaginations.

I'm stuck and I feel tugging and pulling on me in every single direction possible.

I struggle against their grip and try to force myself away.

It's pitch black and I cannot see.

I open my mouth to scream but no noise can and will come out.

No matter what, my efforts do nothing.

My eyes refuse to open to see the light.

My mind refuses to open to guide the way.

My soul refuses to open to realize the truth.

My heart cannot open to let myself free...

Why am I still even trying?

Can't I just give up?

Why can't I let in?

The words that echo around me sound so familar...

I have always asked myself these questions again and again... why am I still fighting myself, why won't I surrender?

I try to reason myself for an answer.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Wait...maybe...

My mind stops processing and I force out a scream as a last effort for release.

This time, noise is heard and my voice echoes.

Silence.

I feel suddenly unbounded from my restrictions but my head spins.

Dizziness and soon I--

My eyes open suddenly, my breath coming out in short, panicked pants.

The sheets around me have been thrashed about, almost slipping off the mattress and my clothes stick to me like a second skin.

Sitting up, I huddle in an attempt to give myself some comfort.

I cannot go back to sleep... I don't want to... I'm scared of what awaits me in my sleep.

So instead, I sit off my bed and walk out of my room.

Quietly shutting the door behind me, I walk through the hallways of the Dallas house, my feet lightly slapping against the wooden floorboards.

I peer through the house and see a dim light being emitted.

My curiosity gets the better of me and I walk towards it.

Finding myself in the kitchen, I notice the form of a huddled figure.

A person hunched over at the bench, drinking from a steamy mug.

Their hair is messy and their eyes look bloodshot and weary.

Elliot.

"Couldn't sleep?" a voice asks.

My focus returns and Elliot is looking at me with a tired smile, noticing my presence.

I only nod and he returns with a sigh.

"Me neither..."

Elliot pats the seat beside him and I oblige and take it.

He passes me a mug and silently offers a pour from the jug that is placed in front of him.

I nod and he pours the liquid.

I notice it appears milky as it pours out, the steam rising as my mug fills.

As it does, the fragrance of spice and sweetness fill me.

"It's warm milk with honey and cinnamon..."

I hold up the mug with both my cold hands, breathing in the steam before taking a gulp.

I can't help but sigh, my eyes closing involuntarily.

"It's really nice," I whisper, my voice still scratchy from waking up.

I realise that I must looked like a mess but Elliot doesn't seem to care.

We stay in silence for a little while.

"My mum..." Elliot begins, "She used to make it for me whenever I couldn't get to sleep and one hundred percent of the time it actually worked."

I look to him, noticing the way he stares down at his cup which is now empty.

I reach over and pour some more for him.

"I am certain... she really loves you with all her heart, you know."

He doesn't reply at first, and I watch him as he thrums his fingers against the side of his mug.

"You said 'loves', present tense..."

I nod.

"Yes I did. Because... your mum is still in here," I say placing my fingers on his chest, feeling the slight thrum of his heartbeat through his white t-shirt. As cheesy as it was, it was true.

He turns to me with a baffled look, opening his mouth but closing it again. He breaths out through his nose and looks back at me, but now with a small smile.

He's beginning to smile more in the past few days and every time I see one appear, no matter how small or brief, it causes my heart to swell, knowing that he is slowly getting back to his old self.

"Thank you Grace..." He says, "I mean it, without you, I don't know... I would probably be in an even more unstable mess than I already am and probably out of my mind. Not that I'm not already."

He chuckles softly.

"Aren't we all?" I reply teasingly, although it did provided an amount of truth.

The smile on his face grows, shaking his head.

We continue like this for a while, talking over the bench in the dim light of the kitchen.

We talked like we were old friends, sharing anecdotes and filling in the gaps of whatever hadn't already been said before.

I know that perhaps I will not remember the exact details of what we said or even the exact details of this very moment.

But what I do know is that in that small quiet moment, I had felt at peace.

And I will always remember seeing how some of the old twinkle in Elliot's eyes had returned once more.