She Was Everything

Cecil felt raw, a weight falling over his body and a lump in his throat as he meandered through the humid May day. He had left his dreary hotel room in the early morning, it was room 309, the same room he had checked into nine months prior to interview at his guild Galdrabók. The hotel, however dull, had its perks and Cecil had no interest in staying on grounds. The wizard had decided not to go on a job today. He didn't have the heart to do so, barely being able to get himself out of bed. Each step of the walk to the guild felt heavy, he did nothing more than spend his day slumped over a reclusive table at the library. Cecil hadn't even picked up anything to read or anything to work on. He just sat there, trying to ignore the gnawing emotions.

Honestly, it was all just a farce. When he had woken up that morning he had known that today would be fruitless. It would have been better just to stay in bed, shoo away housekeeping and perhaps nibble on a bland sandwich of some kind. Cecil hadn't eaten anything all day, and when he had tried to take small sips of water, he felt like he would vomit, something that he would never allow himself to do in public. At precisely five o'clock the oaken chair Cecil was sitting in scraped against the floor as he stood, pushing the chair back into the table as the heinous noise echoed around the large library.

Cecil had nothing else to do, his day of pretending could be over. He could go home and attempt to sleep through the next day, wake up on the sixth and go on like the past two days had never happened. So, leaving the hollowed tree behind him, Cecil set out back to his Hotel. The walk wasn't as long as he had expected it to be, though walking through town was dismal. He couldn't help but hear the sounds of children laughing and siblings squabbling as they played in the quaint streets. It was those sounds that threatened to snap Cecil's heart in two, swearing that it made his breath fade. He would have quickened his pace if he could, but it was as if he was dragging a heavy ball-and-chain behind him; he could not let go of the words echoing in his mind. "Mari I'm not cut out to be some storybook hero. So just stop, get your head out of fairytales and into the real world for once."

Cecil's jaw clenched and the typhoon in his gut raged on. The last words she had ever heard him said were like knives, aimed to pierce through her skin and now they were shredding through him. At long last, he reached his room. Cecil took off his blazer, hanging it and his tie in the closet. He let his hair down and his body fall onto the bed. He wasn't sure what to do. Finding a distraction was difficult. Alcohol was out of the question, as were recreational drugs, nor did he want to be accompanied by a woman, none of those things interested him in the slightest, especially on a good day. The only option was sleep. An outstretched hand fumbled around his bedside table as he searched for the pill bottle. He had purchased high strength sedative-hypnotics a few months back, particularly for days like today, when the memory of Mari hit so hard it nearly crippled him. After popping two pills into his mouth and chasing them down with a splash of tap water, Cecil fell asleep. •••