Someone Like You | Sample

16

It's around the time when I've always gotten out of bed, and the sudden pressure on my lower abdomen subtly reminds me of my daily habits and duties. I need to use the loo. At the realisation, my attention goes back to the arm thrown around my waist. But how will I get out of bed?

Normally it's easier to get out of bed. Issac isn't one to cuddle on the majority of the days so it's not hard to remove myself from bed usually. The hard part is that William wakes up every single time I try to get out of bed. He's a light sleeper and even though that has not been so bad for me on other days — today, I feel like that's the worst sort of trait to have.

If I move, he will wake up too. If he wakes up he will see his arm. If he sees the position we are in, he'll get awkward. If he gets awkward... It'll hurt.

I stop, not wanting to go any further. A sad sigh slips from me and I bite my lip, trying to think about what to do now.

Maybe I can just get up really fast? That way he won't be able to grasp where his hands were?

I freeze and grin. The idea in my mind seems so simple I don't know why I hadn't thought about it from the start!

Slowly I begin moving my left arm up until they are covering William's. Then maneuvering my palm around his own, I slowly slide my fingers between the spaces of his. As if by reflex, his own fingers tighten around mine and I smile triumphantly when I tighten our hold and slowly begin moving our arms to a safer zone.

When our hands are safely between us, I wonder if he will buy it. He was holding hands with me with his right-hand last night, and today he's holding my hand with his left? I want to scoff. Even I wouldn't buy it.

"Oh well! It's too late for that!" I tell myself, "You have things to do now!"

Then I begin trying to get up. Getting up to a sitting position, I slowly begin removing my hand from William's. And when I'm successful, I throw a bewildered look at the still sleeping man. Normally he would have woken up by now.

Slowly though my shocked expression melts into a sad one.

"He had a rough day at the hospital yesterday, he must be tired," I tell myself as I carefully begin to move to the edge of the bed and climb off, standing steadily on my feet when I'm off of the bed and standing beside it.

For a second I stare at the boys sleeping on the bed. My mind swirls around the fact that I was in the small space that is now empty, only minutes ago. I was there... where the woman of the house should be. Where Isaac's mother should be. Where's William's... I stop, biting my lip to stop the thought from progressing.

"It's dangerous to keep walking along that path of thought — it's dangerous for my heart," I tell myself for the thousandth time. Still, I find myself bending over a surprisingly still sleeping William. Up close, I can see the tired eye-bags underneath his eyes, the tiny sharp facial hair he will probably shave when he wakes up, I can see every pore and every spot tiny spot of discolouration that can only show if you're as close to him as this — and I smile.

The feeling of gratefulness seeps into my chest as I gaze at the sleeping man. To be able to lie beside him... I must have done something good in my earlier childhood.

My eyes trace the bridge of his nose, his cheeks and then the mass of thick hair that is usually styled back now falling over his forehead in abandonment, almost completely covering his eyes. For a second I wonder if I would be able to realise if his eyes were open and he was looking at me behind the dark mop of hair. At the thought, my fingers automatically find themselves reaching forward and softly moving his hair away from his eyes. Watching my fingers touching the softness of his skin, I blink and quickly retract my hands back to my chest. My heart beginning thump wildly in my chest.