9: funerals and threats

                                    

                                          
N I N E 
                          
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Callan's POV
                          
I sat on the uncomfortable, cold floor, feeling my whole body ache with exhaustion. My eyes burned with unshed tears and my head pounded. I hugged my knees to my chest, resting my forehead on my arms; I was trying to make myself as small as possible to escape from the overwhelming feelings swirling around in my head. 
                          
Breathe with me.
                          
It was his voice I heard in my head as I dug my nails into my skin, my eyes scrunched shut. It was his voice that rang out in my head, as my senses felt completely overloaded. 
                          
I sucked in a shaky breath, my face still hidden in my arms. 
                          
Calm down, I instructed myself. 
                          
The silence around me was deafening; it was so quiet that I heard footsteps echoing in the hallway outside. 
                          
I swallowed trying to find a way to ground myself before the sound of the door opening rang out in the quiet room. 
                          
Heavy footsteps neared me and I lifted my head up slightly. 
                          
The sight of the towering figure made me feel as though I wanted to start sobbing all over again. 
                          
I looked up to see a face illuminated by the single lamp that was on in the room; the face was one of confusion, with furrowed brows. 
                          
I swallowed, lifting my arm up slightly.
                          
 I pointed a shaky finger to across the room and the honey-coloured eyes followed the direction I was pointing in. 
                          
"S-She's g-gone."
                          
My voice was raspy when I spoke and I choked back a sob. 
                          
The head turned back to me, eyes soft and peering into my soul it seemed like. 
                          
"What happened?" his voice was so soft, so kind, that it made the tears tip over the edge. 
                          
"I-I couldn't s-sleep so I went to g-get some water," I swallowed, sniffling, "A-As I was walking b-back to my room, I w-went to check o-on her and she w-wasn't moving," my voice caught at the end and fresh tears streamed down my face. 
                          
I wiped at my eyes, feeling like a mess and a half. 
                          
He grabbed the tissue box from the coffee table, holding it out to me. I grabbed a tissue, wiping at my eyes and nose. 
                          
This was embarrassing. I knew that. 
                          
But I was going to let myself cry. 
                          
I was scared and I was hurting.
                          
I was allowed to cry. 
                          
He got up and walked to the kitchen, getting me a glass of water. Kneeling on the floor beside me again, he handed me the glass. 
                          
I took it from him with shaking hands, and breathed through my nose as I gulped some water down.
                          
Once I had chugged the whole glass, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, placing the glass onto the coffee table. 
                          
"I-I don't k-know what to do now," I mumbled, my voice raspy. 
                          
I looked up at him for a second before my eyes drifted to area behind him.
                          
To the small table that held my fishbowl. 
                          
The bowl that now held an unmoving Sushi in it. 
                          
She was gone.