From The Dining Table [H.S]

Colour Me In

so come let me love you

come let me love you

and colour me in

***

Primrose's POV:

My parents left shortly after my return to the room. I think they could tell I needed to be alone. My mum gave me a tight hug and told me to call her when I felt up to it, and my dad kissed me on the forehead, before they let themselves out.

I feel bad that they both just left. I don't see them much, and I wish I wasn't so bummed out today. For the rest of the afternoon, I lay on my armchair, staring into space. I've noticed I do this a lot, especially when I'm sad. My mind finds a way to completely shut out reality, and I become captured by this non existent daydream. I can't explain what the daydream is, but it's a mix of pain and pure happiness.

The pain is unbearable. It's everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It makes me want to rip my limbs off, but each time I think I find the pain, it moves somewhere else. It's not an ache, or a stab, or a tingle... it's a constant.

The happiness is like that butterfly feeling in your stomach when you see someone you love. Or that feeling when you're stomach is cramping from laughing so hard. It's warm and embracing, yet gives me a rush that makes me want to conquer the world.

Not even Angel came up that evening. He normally comes up to say goodbye, or check I'm okay. But he never arrived. My parents must've told him I wasn't doing good, and that I needed to be alone. That's the only explanation. And, I appreciate him letting me have my own space. However, I wish he came up. I was in that daze for hours. Just sat, statuesque in my chair, in silence.

A loud grumble erupted in my stomach, causing my eyes to focus on the table in front of me. My head spun momentarily, and my eyes squinted, trying to adjust to the bright light of the room. Another groan rattled my stomach, and a strong ache shot through it, signalling I was starving.

Pulling myself off the couch, I slowly walked into my kitchen - rubbing my eyes as I did so. I began making a cheese toasty, not caring if the cheese was cut evenly, or if the bread was properly toasted. I just needed food. After I finished, I tossed my plate carelessly in the sink and went to my bedroom to change out of my uniform. Now in joggers and a jumper, I wrapped myself in the throw on my sofa. Pushing my door open, I heavily made my way down the stairs to the bar.

I had no idea what time it was. I didn't care what I looked like, or who could still possibly be downstairs. All I knew was that I had this familiar craving for a liquid escape - identical to the one I had weeks ago in Jamaica.

Slamming the door open, I dragged my bare feet across the rough wooden floor. As I flipped on the bar lights, the darkness of the outside became prominent. It was night time. Rain hammered against the windows as the wind whipped it in an array of directions.

Continuing to shuffle around the bar, I pulled out a shot glass and filled it with the first liquor I could find. I threw my head back and flung the shot into my mouth, letting it burn momentarily against my tongue, before letting it effortlessly glide down my throat. My eyes squeezed together as the burn dragged its way through my stomach.

I poured another shot, but this time I added it to an 'Old Fashioned' glass, in attempt to make my drink look more presentable. Adding ice, I chucked the shot glass into the dishwasher, and free handed the rest of the spirit into the glass. Walking round the bar, I approached the Alexa and put on my sad playlist. Though I've never been one to keep up with the current music crazes, over the years I've found some sad songs - old and new - and accumulated a playlist.