Page 69 of A Silence So Divine

The ticking of the clock taunts me—a reminder of the inevitable passing of time and how helpless I am to it. I grip the pillow I’m not using and smother myself with it. The persistenttick tock is muffledand I’m met with blissful silence.

But then, the sheets feel a bit too tight. I attempt to kick out with my leg, but the cotton is tucked neatly beneath the mattress, trapping my foot. My breaths come quicker, but my air supply is limited.

“Mother fucker!” I growl into the feathered pillow, throwing it across the room.

Ripping back the blankets that confine me, I forfeit the battle.

Clad only in black cotton pants, I relish the way the chilled house cools my feverish skin. A finger or three of whiskey usually calms me on nights like tonight, so I head straight for the kitchen.

When I reach the last step of the staircase, my brows furrow. The oven light of the kitchen is turned on, a whisper of light in the otherwise pitch black room. Creed's never left it on before, and in light of recent events, I'm a little more paranoid than before. Which is saying a lot.

Just to be safe, I stop at the console table and grab one of the candlesticks. Not my weapon of choice, but it’ll do. With silent steps, I approach the doorway. Raising the candlestick behind my shoulder, I’m poised to hit someone. I hold my breath.

A figure facing the window has the muscles in my arms tightening, itching to strike.

Silver pools rimmed with red glance back towards me and I deflate, relaxing my shoulders. Without a word, Eden turns back to the glass and the distant pond.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I huff, dropping the candlestick to the counter with a clatter. Opening the cupboard, I grip the neck of a bourbon bottle from the top shelf. Forgoing a glass, I bring it to my lips and take a greedy swallow. It burns on the way down, but the warmth that blooms in my stomach eases the tension in my body.

Eden is utterly still, oblivious to my company. Or she’s choosing to ignore me. Creed’s words freeze out the heat in my veins, and I take another pull from the bottle to combat it.

“Can you even see anything? It’s pretty dark out there,” I say, the sound of my voice out of place in the silence of the room. An attempt to ease my own self loathing, for sure. Her lack of acknowledgment does nothing to comfort me.

With her back turned, I take the moment to study her. She’s wearing one of my old t-shirts, the name of a long forgotten band faded across the front. The hem brushes her mid-thigh, and I know there’s a hole in the armpit. Her socks are different; one made of black wool that reaches halfway up her calf. Creed’s. The other is yellow with white stars and reaches her ankle. Hers.

I cork the bottle and place it back in the cupboard, contemplating my next move. If she wants to be alone, I should leave, but a gnawing in my gut tells me to stay.

I circle the island, and come up on her left side. Her profile is cloaked in darkness. All I’m able to make out are the whites of her eyes. They’re wide, but eerily unseeing.

“Eden?” I coax, taking a step closer.

Nothing.

“Are you alright?”

Nothing.

Tentatively, I brush my knuckles across her bare arm. The moment I make contact, static zaps, and she whirls toward me. I jerk my hand back, startled. Her eyes lose the glazed film, and she stares at me with bewilderment.

“Are you alright?” I repeat.

This rouses her further, and she scans her surroundings. Looking down at her clothes, then back to me, she furrows a brow.

“Why am I here?”She asks.

That’s a fantastic question.

“Sleepwalking, maybe?” I shrug. She looks toward her feet again, but I grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger. Angling her head this way and that, I check her pupils. Aside from visible exhaustion, she looks fine. Her eyes move with the motion, fixated on my face.

Blinking rapidly, she suddenly looks away from me. Cool fingers wrap around my wrist, and she pushes my arm back towards my chest. I release her.

“You want me to walk you back to bed?” I offer, inclining my head towards the door.

“No, thank you. Good night.”

With silent steps, she disappears down the pitch black hall.

Flummoxed, I twist back towards the window and peer out the pane.