Chapter 3 - Ella Milward by Emikins at Story write

Five am and they were finally entering their apartment once again. He closed the door behind him and headed through the kitchen without removing his jacket or setting down his keys. Everything was oddly silent, an intense stillness seemed to have masked the entire apartment after their departure earlier, and it still hung about the air like a dismal fog. He pulled open one of the cupboards, frowned, closed it, and then moved through some of the others until he found what he was looking for. Ella had a habit of rearranging things when she was stressed and this week had been a bad week. He could not find a thing. 1

With Calpol palmed he walked back through the living room and towards the bedroom. At the door he glanced through to the nursery and could clearly make out the shadows of his wife, holding onto her child desperately, so fearful of losing her. She was singing in an off-key whisper that under any other circumstances would have been annoyingly bad. Shaking wobbles caused about by stress accentuated each fluctuating note. Right then it was a sound which bought tears to his eyes. In her arms, silent as a corpse, and almost as lifeless, lay their child. 2

Her small chest was continually rising and falling with steady breaths, but at a slower rate than it should have been. From this position, he could not see the rise and fall and this worried him. In that instant he tried to think of how wonderful his life was right then. How full of good emotion, and passion, it was. How much he really enjoyed just living. Contentment was far surpassed in moments like this, despite the anxiety and stress, he truly knew that everything was going to be okay. He truly felt that nothing could feel better than being there right then. The corner of his lips covered, wrinkles upon his cheeks showing his age. His handsome face was marked with exhaustion, the chiselled features beginning to die away with the aged distinction. A face of wisdom and a well-lived life. 3

Patrick stepped forward and back into reality. “Here, we should give her this before she goes to bed.” His voice broke the quiet which had fallen upon the room, giving it back some life. Ella looked up towards him, her eyes glassy with the unshed tears that had been settled there for hours now. She would never sleep again tonight and Patrick knew she would not cry in front of him either. He would not even begin to think that he was that special, or that privileged, to witness Ella actually break down. Ella nodded stiffly beginning to lean Alyson up against her chest, watching her wake slowly from her daze. Both waited expectantly for his next move, depending upon him to take control here. 4

Moving over to the changing unit once again, he opened up the medicine drawer and pulled out a syringe. Opening the bottle, he put the syringe inside and filled it with the thick pink fluid. He touched the tip to Alyson’s lips, watching as they slowly parted and she sucked at the sickly sweet nectar. A simple household medicine for children. She had nothing more than a common cold, yet in Ellla’s eyes - Patrick was sure - it felt like so much more. No matter how intelligent a person was, first time parents always worried more. Ella held Alyson close to her chest once again, cradling her like a new born baby. Alyson was asleep almost instantly. 5

“Come, let her sleep” Patrick whispered from behind his wife, his body sliding closer to hers. Even inches apart her could feel the chill of her skin. She wore a comfortable pair of sleep shorts which clung to her figure in an attract way and a small strapped vest top which did similar to the curves of her torso. On the entire ride home she had refused his jacket. Her worry for Alyson greater than any concern for her own health. That was why he always worried about her intensely. 6

Ella shrugged away from him and leaned over the crib, reluctant to let Alyson go. Finally, after a few moments pause she set herself down, careful to cover her just enough. Ella’s hand fell against her forehead once again, hoping that the temperature had miraculously decreased. It had not. Patrick watched her Ella swallow before leaning forward and placing her lips upon Alyson’s cheek. Patrick swept forward, strong hands settling on Ella’s small hips. His fingers stretched over them, curving to fit her shoulder. He pulled her closer but Ella slipped out of his hold with a determined ease and began to stride out of the room. “I’m going to my dark room.” 7

Patrick closed his eyes. Ella’s voice was cold, so cold that it made him shiver. It sounded like she was blaming him to allow their baby to catch a cold. Deep down he knew that she was blaming herself - she was Alyson’s mother, she should be able to take care of her, even a cold was neglect. He waited until her steps sounded well out of the room, before releasing his own sigh. “Sweet dreams Kiddo” He whispered, flicking the lightswitch into the off position and leaving the nursery. 8

The keys made a metal clang as they fell onto the bedside table. He stripped off his jacket, shirt, and quickly followed this by removing his pants. Tossing them all onto the comfortable chair which sat before the biggest window in their apartment. The chair that Ella spent most of her evenings seated at; day dreaming, or reading, or coming up with new ideas for the new portfolio of artwork she was creating. The curtains were open, as always, and the sun was beginning to beam in onto the bed. 9

Patrick squinted but looked out upon the horizon. A sea of rooftops met his gaze, the light flittering through the small gaps which were left between some of them. A backdrop of chimneys, slate and satellites. He noted how the shadows fell on the walls below. He noted the beauty of the morning before he turned his back on it and slipped into bed beneath the covers, pulling them high enough to block out most of the light. Patrick closed his eyes.