How to Save a Star [BxB]

I

Chapter One

Lips slightly parted, I gazed at the ceiling where blue stars of diverse proportions sat. They gleamed, shedding light in that dark room. Unlike the first time I saw them, there was no awe or wonder. There was just pain in my chest and a feeling of strange emptiness. I took a deep breath and wandered my eyes across the ceiling. I couldn't remember how many times I counted those stars but I knew that each time was different from others. I stretched my right arm towards the most luminous one, then closed my fist as if catching it, convincing myself that everything was going to be fine. It was useless.

Extremely dejected, I let my hand fall. I pulled a pillow to my face but my body refused to rest. Time decelerated with exaggerated slowness. Each tick of the clock accompanied the heavy beating of my chest as if they were on the brink of stopping. I gasped− my hands pushing the pillow harder, my lungs beginning to ache as I suffocated underneath. When my senses accelerated to normal, I threw the pillow below my feet, breathing heavily. The stars resurfaced. I averted my gaze to the clock, all its hands pointing to Roman numeral twelve.

I knew the countdown was over.

For a second, everything went quiet and the following moments happened in a flash. It was a recollection, a re-enactment of all the things I've been trying so desperately to forget. I rolled back over, my eyes tightly shut, both hands on my ears.

A cold hand strangled my neck, so powerful that I had no breath in my lungs. I tried to look at the face of the man in front of me. It was devoid and dyed in ebony, the darkness within darkness. My body trembled, despair and fear consumed me. In that instant, he disappeared but his iced fingerprints lingered on my skin, they were tattooed on my neck.

Sobs escaped my lips as I blinked through a searing waterfall. They grew louder with each pounding of my heart. I thrust my face on the pillow to contain them but there was an overwhelming pain in my chest like I was being stabbed, over and over again. I was there, lying on the bed, weeping for hours, withdrawing all the painful memories as they repeatedly played in my head.

At three o'clock, I left my room and descended the stairs. A shadow slightly faded in the lamplight disappeared in the kitchen. A flick sound echoed and the room brightened, followed by the sound of gushing water. I walked towards the direction of the light and held the door frame with my right hand as I gazed at a skinny figure who busied herself with a few dishes in the sink. Mom didn't seem to notice that I was there.

When it dawned on me on the occasion of that day, I hurried to the toilet and pressed my palms in the mirror. My reflection scared me: dark bags hung below my eyes, evident against fresh-faced complexion; cornea reddened from crying; and hair looked stiff and wild, almost unmanageable. I splashed some water on my face and repeated it a few times but nothing had changed. I took a cold shower, shampooed, and soaped myself longer than usual to relax my nerves. Before leaving, I peeked again in the mirror. A smile curved my lips. My hair looked smooth, and my eyes were not as red as before.

I returned to my room and wore old pants and a gray polo shirt. "You ready?" mom asked behind the door as I wore my shoes.

"Almost. I'll be out in five minutes." As the sound of her footsteps faded, I opened a drawer beside my bed and took a watch I received during my fourteenth birthday. It was from my grandma, the last gift I received from her before she passed away. My gaze paused in the few visible scars in my left wrist when I put it on. I took a deep breath, then dashed out of the room.

"Happy birthday, Ian," mom said as soon as I approached the dining table. She was smiling but her brown eyes brimmed in red betrayed her every emotion. "I can't believe that you're seventeen already, I used to carry you in my arms but now, look at you, you're bigger than me."