Cry Me a River |✔️

Chapter 34- Madeline

^^O.O Alastair is not happy...^^

Important: There's going to be a switch in point of views in this chapter, so be careful. Alastair's going to appear mid-chapter, so there's going to be a big bold: Alastair's P.O.V Hopefully I don't end up confusing everyone :,)

'When I'm with you, hours feel like seconds. When we're apart, days feel like years.'

Chapter 34
River's POV

My eyes fluttered open, eyes peering up at beige rock, dangling above me. A sharp breath caught in my throat as the realism of the situation hit me.

Not a dream.

It was dim, only a small ray of sunlight streaming in from a half-mooned crevice on the upper right wall. My mind raced, unsure what to do. I took a deep breath, attempting to sit up only to fall back down by a heavy weight on my lower stomach. Brows scrunching, I peered down, met by a small form snoozing away on my stomach.

A low tsk resounded from my right as I was met with an upright Emile, sitting cross-armed on the opposite side of the bed, watching me through narrowed eyes.

I cleared my throat, slight color draining from my face, "G-good morning," it was meant as a simple pleasantry but it came out as more of a question as my voice caught in my throat.

Emile nodded, eyes trained on mine.

I swallowed nervously, peering down at the napping child on my stomach. Emile's stare was practically tangible as it pressed against the side of my head.

Wake up, Parish.

My eyes squeezed together.

Please. Your...whatever he is to you...is scaring the living daylights out of me.

A light yawn pulled me from my misery as a small pair of arms almost knocked me backward as he stretched, punching the air centimeters from my face.

"For God's fucking sake, it feels like a troop of monkeys did benches on my back," Parish moaned, raising himself on his arms before falling straight back down with a groan.

I coughed in slight pain as his weight settled on my chest, cutting off my air supply.

Parish's head lifted, brow raised as if to asking: 'can I help you?'.

"Parish," I groaned, "you're hurting me."

He peered down at my chest then back at my eyes with an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"Are you truly so feeble to be unable to handle the weight of a ten-year-old. I mean," he motioned to himself, "let us be honest. I can't possibly weigh more than fifty pounds."

"I thought you said you weren't-"

Parish lifted a finger to my lips, "I don't recall ever claiming to be the same age as my body."

"How-"

"Not important," Parish turned towards Emile's hunched form on the far end of the large bed, "are you not going to give me a morning kiss?" He sounded genuinely upset by the thought.

A soft smile graced Emile's lips as he looked up, body slouching no longer. He crawled forward, fingers brushed lightly across Parish's cheeks as he took the small boy's face in his hands and placed a tender kiss on his forehead.

"Good morning, kitten." His voice was so gentle, like a calming breeze on a warm spring morning.

Wow, so he can display emotion. An emotion that isn't utterly frightening.