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Michaela laid in her bed, covers over her face, waiting for the migraine to subside. She had been up for twelve hours straight trying to balance her studies, the cases at the legal clinic, and Asher's constant neediness. It was really all beginning to be too much for her. She was only one woman after all.
She reached into her skirt pocket for her cellphone and brought it up to her face, covers still wrapping her in darkness. The phone's screen flashed on, momentarily blinding her with white light. The digital clock read 10:47 AM, prompting a groan from Michaela.
10:47 meant she only had 30 minutes to get some shut eye before she was expected back at the clinic. The pain in her head worsened, seeming to scrape and bite at the back of eyeballs. Quickly, she closed her eyes and rolled over to her side, hoping that would ease the migraine until she could get to sleep, but the pain was too great. Not five minutes later, tears were rolling down her face, slipping down her lips and melting into her tongue, the saltiness of them a manifestation of just how tired she really was.
She sat up on the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets beside her with an intense force as the tears continued to fall. Everything Michaela had been through, everything she was doing was amounting to absolutely nothing. Day after day, she tried to stop the anxiety from tripping her up by holding her head high and basking in the sun, but she couldn't feel the sun anymore - it always seemed to be hiding behind dark clouds and rain these days. Sobs began escaping through her mouth, long, hard, and terrible. Each sob seemed to take more effort and energy from her, bit by bit.
Michaela clutched her chest and let them fall, waiting for it to all be over. But it didn't seem to end. The tears, the sobs, the headaches, the whimpering - it all kept coming, washing over her entire being over and over again. She forced herself to stand up, determined to distract herself for long enough to stop the crying. The tears in her eyes were beginning to blur her vision, and the migraine seemed to worsen. Her whole body, from top to bottom, ached with a numbing exhaustion and sorrow she thought she'd never feel again after her parents..
Suddenly her knees buckled underneath her, causing her to fall face-first to the floor, her arms covering her face just in time. The pain was too much to bear; it seemed to consume her and push her deeper and deeper into the floor and the darkness. Michaela laid there, too weary to try moving. The ringtone of her cellphone broke through the silence, muffled by the blankets and sheets covering it. She knew it would be someone calling for something she didn't give a rat's ass about; Asher begging for sex and attention, Bonnie or Annalise with more assignments, Connor crying for Oliver..
None of it mattered - They were all murderers and their lives were ruined. Asher, Laurel, Frank (wherever the Hell he was), Bonnie, Connor, Annalise, and even Annalise's beloved Wes - they were all doomed. There was no reason to keep on..
Someone was knocking at her front door, first softly then succeeding into rushed, hard pounding.
"Michaela..Michaela I know you're in there."
She stared blankly at the bottom of the couch trying to remember whose voice that was, tears still rolling down her face. A few seconds later, it clicked in her throbbing head - Wes. What was he doing here?
Michaela thought of telling him to go away, to leave her the hell alone, but she could not bring herself to speak. Her throat was dry and numb, and in no condition to form coherent sounds.
"Michaela, I.." She heard the doorknob turn, with the creak of the door's hinges. "Where are you?"
She saw Wes's grey loafers pad across the wood floor, seemingly searching for her. Suddenly they stopped in their tracks, his messenger back falling to the floor.
"Oh my God, Michaela!" He rushed around the couch, and knelt down beside her, long, slender fingers feeling her neck for a pulse. She moved her head to face the coffee table, unable to look at him.
"Didn't your parents ever teach you not to go where you are not welcomed?" Her voice choked out in a gruff whisper.
Wes sat down on the floor next to her, his voice steeped in confusion. "What?.."
Slowly, Michaela pushed herself up with feeble arms and struggled to sit on the couch. "I think I should be asking you that. What are you doing here?"
"I..was worried about you." he looked at her, this time with confusion shining in his wide eyes. He looked genuinely concerned, Michaela concluded. 'I, uh..saw you at the clinic. You didn't look so hot, and I just wanted to check on you."
"Well I'm fine, thank you. You can go now," she replied, voice still unsettled.
"You look far from fine, Michaela.." he said, voice soft with something that sounded akin to sadness.
"I'm just tired is all."
Wes anchored himself and sat on the couch beside Michaela, an affectionate look coloring his face. "This is more than 'just tired'. You look like I felt a few months ago."
She bit her bottom lip, a million thoughts flying through her head at once. The migraine began to bite at her again like it was feasting on her mind while she tried to process each thought. She held her head in her hands as the tears creeped back and spilled over, the familiar tang rushing into the corners of her lips. Wes reached over her left shoulder and held her to his chest, resting his chin gently on the top of her head.
A whole conversation was shared between the two without one word; Wes understood and Michaela knew it. They sat that way for a while; uncounted minutes passing them by. The tears did not stop pouring out and the sobbing resumed like it had never ceased - Wes held her through it all. With his free hand he reached over and caressed her cheek, trying to comfort her in her breakdown.
"You're not alone, Michaela. You're not alone in this madness. Please know that," he said quietly, almost so low that Michaela didn't hear him.
"But..you have Laurel, and Annalise, and Meggy," she choked out. "You have everyone."
"No, Michaela. I have no one at all." He held her closer to his chest, the muscles in his jaw tightening at the grim realization.
She snaked an arm around his waist and rubbed her head against his chest. "I don't know what to do..I just want to leave - to run away, but.."
"But there is no where to go," he finished for her.
Tears began to flood Wes' eyes, falling down to the top of Michaela's head. They sat there in silence for more uncounted moments, both trying to comfort the other's pain.