ғᴇᴇʟ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ {ʙᴇɴ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴᴇᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ} !!DISCONTINUED!!

chpt.17

        The evening seemed to last forever, the stars mocking her wakeful night. By now, the sun had risen multiple hours ago, but she couldn't find a reason to get up, let alone leave her room. Nevertheless, {Y/N} sat up, her hair falling into her eyes. Even with her long night, she didn't feel tired in the slightest.

        {Y/N} stared down the clock, yet her head wouldn't let her focus on the time for longer than a second. She left her endeavors at that, assuming it's around noon. It would've been nice to be allowed to sleep in finally; hopefully, she'll have that opportunity when she doesn't feel undeserving of such a thing.

        But then that posed the question; what would she be doing now? As much as {Y/N} had planned to live through yesterday; she hadn't exactly managed to prepare this far ahead. Honestly, more significant things were occupying her mind.

        Swinging her legs over the side- flinching when her feet hit the icy floor. {Y/N} slowly lowered her feet back down, trying to get herself used to the uncomfortable feeling. She stood up and made for the door, not bothering to change out of her sleepwear.

        When {Y/N} exited her room, she heard the buzz of chatting from downstairs. The voices lured her right outside the living room, but she couldn't recognize what they were talking about, nor who said voices belonged to. The girl broke away from the voices, heading to the dining room yet again.

        The decor on the table had been displaced, and a few chairs were left pushed out, yet the room was empty in terms of people. {Y/N} stood at the doorway, unsure of what she should do or why she even came down here in the first place. Her head was going off absurdly, and she was feeling rather restless, and without anything to touch, adjust, and fidget with, {Y/N} felt like she would explode.

Honestly it didn't sound too bad.

        Wincing when a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, {Y/N} turned around- and standing beside her was Masky. She stared into shadowed eyeholes, completely void of any emotion. His voice came off as white noise, just barely able to make out what he was saying, yet she could tell what he meant from the moment he opened his mouth... praise with a hint of ridicule, or was that reassurance? It was ridiculous.

        Masky went on and on about whatever, {Y/N} honestly couldn't bring herself to care. You'd think you'd be more appreciative about getting to live another day, but her chest felt hollow, just a void of any gratitude or sense of achievement. There wasn't a drop of guilt. But the guilt felt inviting. It felt nice to be sad, that sadness and anger and guilt and misery was familiar, almost comforting. All of those happy memories were full of fake friends and faker lovers. Nothing was real. But melancholy was real, it always was. No matter where you are or what you're doing, those icky feelings are always the same. It felt great to feel bad- villainous. Almost like being a villain was a healthy thing.

        Masky had shoved something into her hands before walking away. She didn't register what had happened, the thud of his boots radiating confidence and power. Even at her peak, {Y/N} never experienced anything close to that. Must be nice.

        {Y/N} finally registered that something was in her hands, looking down- seeing a pristine manila envelope sat eagerly in her hands, waiting to be opened. She undid the brad fastening the envelope closed, and pulled out a stack of papers. Taking a seat in one of the pulled out chairs, {Y/N} inspected the different documents. It was the same picture of Camila, along with her profile, filled with basic information. 21 years old, an Aries born in March, the daughter of Isabella Marín who's a single mother- unknown if a widow- or just a shitty marriage.

        Camila probably became too much of a liability, right? It's the only explanation she could think of as to why they would need to get involved. There were two other papers, but they were almost empty. One had her current address, and the other had information on her mother. Isabella was a detective- quite good at keeping things secretive, leading her tracks backward instead of forward. And just like mommy, Camila was studying criminology, following the path of whatever justice could be served.