𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+] ✔

13

Before, I was never one for astronomy or had been so intrigued by the sky, but the blanket of stars and full moon have me mesmerised, like a real-life aesthetic floating above me as I lean against the glass, imagining the sound of the shallow waves against the barrier.

I'm fully aware that there is a search out for me, but I'm trying to settle into some sort of peace with my surroundings. I can't bear the thought of leaving, to go back to my parents' place and pretend that I'm okay, because I'm not.

The worst part isn't that I'm feeling this way because of my failed relationship with Robbie, or because of my dad ordering me around as usual, it's because I don't know what is making me so hollow, making my chest feel like it's caving in while I struggle to keep above the surface of whatever I'm drowning in.

I'm shaking, but I'm not cold. My chattering teeth and trembling limbs won't stop, no matter how much I rub at my arms and curl into myself. It's as if I've overdone my caffeine intake, but I've not had any in months. I have bad anxiety at times, even before we were trapped in this glass prison, it riddled me.

Closing my eyes, I mumble the words to The Cranberries-Zombie to myself, rocking back and forth to generate some heat, my eyes fixated on the water.

Focus, Danielle.

"Another head hangs lowly; child is slowly taken..."

Time passes quickly, and the high-pitched buzzing starts, making me stop my repeated song words to look around. Darkness, everything surrounding me is black, and I'm not sure if the noises are in my head, or if my dad has sounded the alarms within the dome to search for me.

"With their tanks, and their bombs..."

I should stand up.

"And their bombs, and their guns..."

I should try to walk.

"In your head, in your head, they are crying..."

But I can't, nor do I want to.

"What's in your head..."

The words die in my mind, and I feel a tear trickle down my cheek.

Instead of finishing the song, I close my eyes and let the noises of car engines from memory settle me, the gentle imaginary wind lulling me to sleep.

_______________________

"Dan..."

I feel a warm hand on my face, someone's voice dragging me from my deep darkness, where I had been back at school and gossiping with my late friends about Robbie Murdoch asking me out, and instead of blushing as I had originally, I grimaced and looked down at him, as if I could see the future and how he'd make me feel.

"Fucking hell. You're shaking. Are you cold?"

The hollowness is still in my chest, my head aching more than before.

No, I don't want to feel any of it, I want to sleep, but the annoying person in front of me insists on whispering my name until I make some sort of sound to show I am, in fact, awake.

"Dan..." The voice is louder, closer, a thumb running along my cheekbone. When I try to open my eyes, heaviness making it harder, I see Eric bending down. He removes his hand, like the touch alone has burned him, and he crouches as he shakes his head, looking around us. "You're a fucking tit, do you know that?"

I stay silent, watching him, my teeth chattering so much I think they may crack. Eric sees a tear fall, and his face relaxes, reaching up and grabbing the back of his hoodie, yanking it off so his hair becomes dishevelled.