Page 171 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

TWENTY-ONE

John stumbled from the bed. A muddy sensation filled up his mind. A medication-induced fog had nothing on a manic break. The exhaustion that came on a person when the mania finally left was unlike anything else.

A hell he would wish on no one.

Not even his worst enemy.

It was like a thousand pounds of rocks had slipped into his body to replace his muscles and bones. Cement had been used in place of his blood.

Walking was a chore.

Breathing was too much work.

Being alive was troublesome.

John moved down the stairs of his home, grateful that somehow, he had been brought home—or made his way—to a familiar place. It made this process so much easier to understand. He felt less out of place, even though not a single thing in his life currently felt right.

He took the stairs carefully, navigating one after the other with heavy feet while he held onto the banister. The quiet chatter coming from the kitchen drew his attention in that direction.

He recognized the voices. Andino, and his father. However, there was one voice missing. One voice that he wanted to hear the most.

In the haze of his memories of the week and night before, John distinctly remembered one person standing out the most above all others.

Siena.

Where was she?

Why wasn’t she here?

He was sure that she had been in bed with him the night before. His eyes had cracked open, though they felt like someone had taped them shut, and he had seen her lying next to him.

That had not been his mania.

He had not imagined her there.

So, where was she?

John stumbled into the kitchen. Instantly, the gazes of his father and cousin darted his way. Lucian stood from the table first, and then Andino quickly followed suit.

“John,” his father said. “How are you feeling?”

In Lucian’s eyes, John could see the questions his father didn’t ask. Things about his mind, and what was currently going on up in there.

John didn’t know what he would say if his father did ask. His thoughts were slower, and his mind was not warring between emotions, and trying to process them. He did not have so much shit muddling up his brain, even if it did still feel muddy in ways.

It was better.

Not like it had been.

“Where is she?” he asked.

Lucian looked at Andino, and then back to John. “Who, son?”

“You know who.”

He was not playing this fucking game with them.

Andino took a step forward. A hesitant step. He had a right to be hesitant, John knew. After the weeks and weeks of mania, anyone had a right to look at John in that moment with a little bit of hesitancy.