Stolen By Him | ✓

day thirty

||DAY 30

They rarely spoke at night time, during the hours in which the world around them was asleep.

And as thankful as Lana was for that, feeling his presence so close every night, hearing the rise and fall of his every breath, made it hard for her to drift asleep. Especially when a constant reminder of her messed up nightmare was a mere few inches away from her.

While she listened to him, sometimes it felt like she was waiting for something monumental.

Like the moment he stops breathing all together.

She pushed herself up off of the bed, with a sudden jolt panging inside her chest.

She didn't truly wish him dead, did she?

Despite everything he'd done, they still had history together. They had a past filled to the brim with childhood memories- of a time so far and foreign from where they were now. Memories that she had tried so hard to keep contained in its own little box in the corner of her mind labelled 'the good days'.

That doesn't make this okay though.

He's not okay.

She tried to take in a breath, and willed herself for the tears not to fall. Time and time again she had to tell herself that crying wouldn't get her anywhere. If there was some sort of God out there, which she was starting to believe less and less now, crying to Him proved to be pointless.

"Lana," he whispered out into the darkness, his voice so low.

She tried to stop sniffling.

"Nightmare?"

"No" was all she said. But then she added "I don't get those anymore" because she wanted him to stop asking her that like he had the right to try and comfort her.

He didn't.

He had to stop.

"What are you thinking about?" He said.

About how I wish you were dead.

"Nothing. I'm thinking about nothing, okay?" Irritation spiked at her insides at the fact that she couldn't just say it.

I wish you were dead.

Instead, she said something else- something that had plagued her mind since the beginning, leaving only a whirlwind of confusion in its wake.

"Why don't you care?" She whispered; all the strength in her voice had dissipated.

"About what?"

"That I'm in so much pain right now." It almost hurt to breathe the words, but she knew she had to say it. At this point, she had tried everything else- getting angry at him, ignoring him, trying to rebel- and this was all she had left. The truth. She knew if she never told him the truth, she would always regret it.

"I do... You have no idea how badly this is tearing me apart."

She took a breath, but it wasn't enough to steady her voice. "Then why am I here Matthew?"

There was a rustling sound at his corner of the room, followed by heavy foot steps. Suddenly her hands were no longer frigid from the cold. His were big enough to fit right around them. And although she couldn't see him, from his touch alone, she could tell just how much talking about this was taking the strength out of him.

She wished she had enough strength between the two of them to pull away, but she craved the warmth of somebody's touch after being isolated for so long.

Why was she so weak?

She wanted to feel anger burn through her veins so she could lash out and speak her mind, not worrying about what it would do to him. But Lana was too burnt out at this point to start a fight with him. He'd reduced her to nothing but a tired, hollow shell.

"I think you can be happy here Lana, if you gave it a chance. You can't tell me you were truly happy back home."

It had been a year since he moved away from their hometown- more than enough time for the lives of the people around him to change. Lana's did too. During that time, somehow, she had found it in herself to grow up. Eventually, life was moving too fast, and at one point she just snapped. Stress, anxiety, the future- it had all gotten to her.

It had been weeks since she thought about it.

In the end, she had forgotten it all.

"Lana, nothing really matters here unless you make it matter. I hope you realise that."